ELMER  L- 
REIZENSTEIN 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


ON  TRIAL 


White,  New  York. 


She  had  returned  to  the  subject  uppermost  in  her  mind 


ON  TRIAL 

THE  STORY  OF  A  WOMAN  AT  BAY 

BY 

ELMER  L.  REIZENSTEIN 


MADE  INTO  A  BOOK  FROM  THE 
PLAY    OF    THE    SAME    NAME 

BY 

D.JTORBETT 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 
1915 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1915 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     THE  MURDER i 

II  I  MEET  WITH  UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  .      .      18 

III  THE  INQUEST 38 

IV  MRS.  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS  ....     57 
V  I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS     .      .      .      .      .     74 

VI  I    MAKE    THE    ACQUAINTANCE    OF    MR. 

BURKE 99 

VII  I  SET  ABOUT  GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY      .    117 

VIII  A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS    ....    134 

IX  THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      .      .      .      .151 

X  DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION    .      .      .      .164 

XI  A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE  .      .      .      .188 

XII  AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER         ....   204 

XIII  THE  PRICE  OF  SAFETY         .      .      .      .      .   222 

XIV  A  WOMAN  AT  BAY 232 

XV     MAY'S  FLIGHT 250 

XVI     A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE 257 

XVII     SHIPWRECK 277 

XVIII     THE  JURY  DEBATES 297 

XIX  MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES     .      .      .      .      .      .310 

XX     THE  VERDICT 328 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

She  had  returned  to  the  subject  uppermost  in  her 

mind »       Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


She  heard  her  husband  exclaim:     "Strickland!"    .      14 

"My  daddy  brought  him  to  me  from  Cleveland  the 

night  he  came  home" 78 

"I  just  knew  I  wouldn't  go  to  sleep  for  the  longest 

while"    .      .     „ 92 

"I  took  it  from  my  pocket  and  held  it  up"  .      .      .114 

And  then  had  followed  lies,  and  more  lies,  and  then 

more    lies 242 

"And  he  leaned  across  the  table  to  kiss  me"  .      .      .   266 

"I  heard  the  woman  say:     'You  had  better  go  home 

with   your    father' "....»...   290 


ON  TRIAL 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    MURDER 

So  much  that  is  inaccurate  has  appeared  from 
time  to  time  in  the  newspapers  all  over  the  coun- 
try about  the  Trask  murder,  and  the  subsequent 
trial  and  acquittal  of  Robert  Strickland,  the  de- 
fendant, that  I  have  felt  constrained  in  justice  to 
all  concerned  to  set  matters  right;  not  only  by  cor- 
recting these  inaccuracies,  but  by  narrating  for  the 
first  time  in  detail  some  of  the  circumstances 
which,  for  lack  of  a  better  word,  I  may  describe 
as  extenuating,  which  undoubtedly  influenced  the 
jury  in  coming  to  their  decision.  If  to  some  peo- 
ple I  may  seem  to  have  been  over-long  in  making 
up  my  mind  to  adopt  this  course,  I  have  two  ex- 
planations to  offer  for  my  procrastination:  in  the 
first  place,  I  have  been,  and  still  am,  reluctant  to 
cause  any  additional  suffering  to  a  woman  who 
must  have  already  reached  the  point  beyond  which 
human  endurance  can  hardly  be  expected  to  go, 
by  reopening  wounds  which  Time  itself  can  never 


2  ON  TRIAL 

fully  heal ;  secondly,  I  am  conscious  that  my  chief, 
if  not  my  only,  equipment  for  the  task  I  am  about 
to  undertake  is  that  I  happen  to  be  in  possession 
of  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  many  of  which — as  any 
lawyer  will  understand — could  not,  for  purely 
technical  reasons,  be  brought  before  a  jury. 

I  may  be  pardoned,  by  way  of  introduction,  for 
saying  a  few  words  about  myself  to  explain  why 
and  how  I  happen  to  be  the  person  upon  whose 
shoulders  the  responsibility  for  the  performance 
of  these  duties  seems  to  rest.  My  name  is  Mal- 
colm Arbuckle.  For  nearly  twenty  years  I  have 
been  known  as  a  criminal  lawyer,  during  which 
period  I  have  met  with  unusual  success — a  cir- 
cumstance which  I  attribute  largely  to  fortune. 
Certainly  I  wish  to  make  no  pretensions  to  the 
possession  of  more  than  average  ability,  together 
with  perhaps  a  little  more  than  average  persist- 
ence, a  heritage  of  my  Scottish  blood. 

In  one  way  only  has  my  career  differed  from 
that  of  most  of  my  confreres  at  the  Bar:  I  have 
never  asked  nor  accepted  for  myself  any  fee  from 
my  clients.  The  greater  part  of  them,  indeed, 
would  have  been  unable  to  pay  me  had  I  done  so. 


THE  MURDER  3 

In  the  rare  cases  where,  out  of  gratitude  for  such 
services  as  I  have  been  able  to  render  them,  my 
clients  have  insisted  upon  paying  me  a  fee,  the 
sum  has  eventually  been  turned  over  to  some  char- 
ity upon  the  worthiness  of  which  I  have  satisfied 
myself  after  careful  inquiry.  This  conduct  on 
my  part  has  frequently  been  described  as  eccentric. 
But  to  all  such  criticism  I  am  completely  indif- 
ferent. 

Left  an  orphan  at  an  early  age,  and  discovering 
upon  attaining  my  majority  that  I  was  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  fortune  giving  me  an  income  which  one 
of  my  simple  tastes  and  habits  would  never  think 
of  spending,  I  cast  about  in  my  mind  for  the  voca- 
tion which  would  at  once  employ  my  leisure  and 
afford  me  an  opportunity  for  helping  my  fellow- 
men. 

From  my  earliest  youth,  all  tales  of  mystery 
and  so-called  "detective"  stories  have  interested 
me  more  than  any  other  form  of  light  literature. 
By  this  confession,  I  am  aware  that  I  lay  myself 
open  to  the  charge  of  being  a  person  of  unculti- 
vated taste,  entirely  lacking  in  nice  discrimination. 
In  my  own  defence  I  might  cite  two  of  the  most 


4  ON  TRIAL 

illustrious  men  of  modern  times:  namely,  Prince 
Bismarck  and  Mr.  Gladstone,  both  of  whom  are 
said  to  have  beguiled  their  leisure  with  the  ro- 
mances of  Fortune  de  Boisgobey  and  Emile 
Gaboriau. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  admit  that  I  find  such  tales 
most  absorbing.  Even  the  accounts  of  real 
crimes,  so  graphically  set  forth  in  our  daily  papers, 
interest  me  more  than  almost  any  other  form  of 
news.  For  years,  I  have  made  it  a  practice  to 
follow  every  criminal  trial  most  closely;  in  espe- 
cial those  which  have  to  do  with  murder. 

The  shelves  of  my  library  are  loaded  with 
scrap-books  containing  accounts  of  all  the  most 
celebrated  murder  cases  of  the  last  twenty-five 
years.  The  ones  which  have  never  been  cleared 
up  are  naturally  the  most  fascinating.  It  would 
doubtless  surprise  my  friends  to  know  that  I  have 
in  every  one  of  these  cases — sometimes  only  after 
months  of  study — been  able  to  arrive  at  a  solution 
which  I  am  convinced  is  the  true  one.  Perhaps  in 
my  old  age,  when  time  shall  have  removed  the 
actors  from  the  scenes  of  these  tragic  dramas,  I 
shall  offer  these  conclusions  to  the  world. 


THE  MURDER  5 

It  can  readily  be  seen  how  this  natural  predis- 
position on  my  part  determined  me  in  the  choice 
of  a  career.  I  decided  to  fit  myself  for  the  prac- 
tice of  law  and  to  devote  myself  to  defending 
those  unfortunates  accused  of  crime  who  were 
without  means  to  regularly  employ  counsel  for 
themselves. 

And  now  we  come  to  the  Robert  Strickland  case. 
Most  of  my  readers  will  probably  recall  the  sen- 
sation caused  by  the  murder  of  Gerald  Trask, 
and  the  principal  facts  connected  with  that  crime, 
as  they  appeared  in  the  papers.  It  will,  there- 
fore, only  be  necessary  to  give  a  brief  summary 
of  the  accounts  that  appeared  in  the  New  York 
papers  on  the  morning  of  June  25th  last. 

When  my  servant,  an  elderly  Scotsman  who 
has  been  with  me  for  a  number  of  years,  came  to 
call  me  at  his  accustomed  hour  of  half  after  seven, 
it  did  not  need  the  arm  full  of  papers  he  was 
carrying  to  tell  me  that  they  contained  news  of 
peculiar  interest.  One  glance  at  his  face  would 
have  been  sufficient.  I  may  add,  parenthetically, 
that  his  interest  in  all  matters  criminal  is  second 
only  to  my  own,  and  that  he  follows  each  case 


6  ON  TRIAL 

with  an  interest  which  is  as  lively  as  it  is  intelli- 
gent. 

More  than  once,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  some 
shrewd  comment  or  observation  on  his  part  has 
been  of  real  assistance  when  my  own  brain  was 
temporarily  befogged  with  pondering  too  long 
over  some  knotty  problem.  I  have  made  it  a 
practice  upon  numerous  occasions  to  summon  him 
to  my  study  after  I  have  arrived  at  a  tentative  con- 
clusion, and  have  stated  my  case  to  him  as  I  might 
put  it  before  a  jury.  If  he  is  not  perfectly  con- 
vinced— and  he  clearly  understands  that  I  rely 
upon  him  to  be  absolutely  frank — I  know  that  my 
argument  requires  strengthening. 

He  has  never  in  the  slightest  degree  presumed 
upon  these  departures  from  our  ordinary  relations, 
appearing  the  morning  following  our  most  hotly 
contested  debates,  with  his  accustomed  air  of  re- 
spectful assiduity. 

Ordinarily,  I  read  the  Times  while  at  my  break- 
fast. But  McLean  has  his  instructions  to  bring 
a  copy  of  each  of  the  morning  papers  whenever 
a  new  case  is  reported,  as  well  as  to  look  out  for 
the  later  additions. 


THE  MURDER  7 

"Something  unusual,  McLean,  to  judge  from 
your  face,"  I  said,  sitting  up  in  bed. 

"Yes,  indeed,  sir.  Mr.  Gerald  Trask,  the 
banker,  was  shot  and  killed  last  night  in  his  own 
library,  and  a  friend  of  his,  a  Mr.  Robert  Strick- 
land, was  taken,  you  might  almost  say  red-handed, 
with  a  pistol  in  his  hand." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  nothing  more  Was  re- 
quired to  banish  the  last  trace  of  drowsiness  from 
my  brain. 

Gerald  Trask  was  known  to  me  personally,  al- 
though our  acquaintance  was  of  the  slightest: 
Robert  Strickland,  I  knew  by  reputation  only. 
But  everything  I  had  ever  heard  of  him  tended  to 
show  that  he  was  a  man  of  unusual  probity  and 
honesty. 

I  made  haste  with  my  toilet,  nearly  cutting  my- 
self while  shaving — a  thing  which  has  not  hap- 
pened to  me  above  a  half  dozen  times  in  my  life ! 
Over  my  breakfast,  I  ran  hastily  through  the 
papers. 

Yes,  it  was  in  them  all;  the  same  extraordinary 
story  varied  only  in  unimportant  details.  The 
staring  head-lines,  one  of  them  bristling  with  ex- 


8  ON  TRIAL 

clamation  points,  could  be  read  on  the  front  page 
at  arm's  length. 

TRASK  THE  BANKER  MURDERED  IN 
HIS  LIBRARY! 

MURDERER  STRUCK  DOWN  BY  DEVOTED 
SECRETARY ! 

MRS.   TRASK  ALSO  ATTACKED!     HER  ASSAILANT 
ESCAPES!     MOST    DARING    CRIME     COM- 
MITTED    IN     NEW     YORK     IN     YEARS ! 
ROBBERY  THE  PROBABLE  MOTIVE  ! 

and  so  on,  and  so  on,  in  the  hysterical  manner 
which  even  our  best  newspapers  are  pleased  some- 
times to  affect. 

Having  carefully  read  each  account  and  turned 
the  papers  over  to  McLean,  who  was  doing  his 
best  to  conceal  his  eagerness  to  have  his  turn  at 
them ;  I  went  at  once  to  my  study  and  sat  down  to 
reduce  to  writing  the  plain  narrative  of  the  events 
which  had  transpired  at  the  home  of  Gerald  Trask 
the  night  before.  At  the  end  of  about  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  I  found  that  I  had  been  able  to  make 
the  following  abstract  of  what  appeared  to  be  the 
principal  (unverified)  facts: 


THE  MURDER  9 

Shortly  after  nine-thirty  o'clock,  Gerald  Trask 
had  returned  from  Long  Branch,  New  Jersey,  to 
find  his  wife  and  his  secretary,  a  young  man  by  the 
name  of  Stanley  Glover  who  lived  in  the  house, 
and  appears  to  have  been  on  terms  approaching  in- 
timacy with  both  his  employer  and  his  wife  (a 
policy  which  both  experience  and  observation  have 
taught  me  will  lead  to  trouble  nine  times  out  of 
ten,  unless  both  parties  possess  unusual  tact  and 
discretion),  chatting  pleasantly  in  the  library.  At 
the  end  of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  young  Glover 
had  withdrawn  to  his  own  room,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  checking  over  various  tradesman's  ac- 
counts for  Mrs.  Trask,  the  family  being  about  to 
close  the  house  preparatory  to  going  away  for  the 
summer  in  accordance  with  their  usual  cus- 
tom. 

While  he  was  still  in  the  room,  however,  two  in- 
cidents occurred  which,  in  the  light  of  subsequent 
events,  seem  to  be  not  without  significance.  He 
had  been  obliged  to  await  his  employer's  return 
before  getting  the  account  books  from  the  safe, 
which  was  let  into  one  of  the  walls  of  the  room. 
The  safe  was  a  new  one,  and  Mrs.  Trask  had 


10  ON  TRIAL 

neglected  to  get  the  combination  from  her  hus- 
band. 

On  being  asked  for  the  combination,  Trask  had 
searched  vainly  in  all  of  his  pockets  for  the  card 
on  which  he,  himself,  had  written  it  only  the  day 
before.  Finally,  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  he  must  have,  inadvertently,  given  it  to  his 
friend,  Robert  Strickland,  at  whose  apartment  he 
had  stopped  for  a  moment  on  his  way  from  the 
train. 

He  had,  it  seemed,  invited  Strickland  to  join  a 
fishing  party  at  Long  Branch  for  the  following 
Sunday,  and  had  written  the  address  of  his  house 
on  a  card  which  he  had  taken  from  his  pocket  with- 
out examining  the  other  side.  As  none  of  the 
cards  still  remaining  in  his  card-case  had  the  de- 
sired combination  written  on  it,  it  seemed  only 
logical  to  suppose  that  he  had  carelessly  used  that 
particular  one  on  which  to  write  the  address. 
However,  with  an  effort  of  memory,  he  was  able 
to  recall  the  necessary  succession  of  numbers,  and 
had  opened  the  safe  himself. 

Furthermore,  it  appears  that  Strickland  had 
been  in  considerable  financial  difficulty  for  some 


THE  MURDER  11 

little  time,  through  no  immediate  fault  of  his  own. 
Trask  had  accepted  his  note  for  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars, which  note  had  fallen  due  two  days  before, 
that  is  to  say,  on  the  22nd  inst. 

The  mention  of  Strickland's  name  had  recalled 
to  the  careful  secretary  the  fact  that  this  note  was 
over-due.  On  his  mentioning  this  circumstance, 
Trask  had  taken  ten  one  thousand  dollar  bills 
from  his  pocket,  laughingly  explaining  that 
Strickland  had  paid  the  note  that  very  evening  in 
this  very  unusual  manner  on  the  ground  that  it 
had  been  so  darned  hard  to  get,  that  he  wanted  the 
pleasure  of  paying  it  in  cash,  rather  than  by  check. 
(A  most  unbusiness-like  and  childish  proceeding 
for  which,  I  may  say,  I  cannot  find  any  excuse.) 
Before  leaving  the  room,  the  secretary  had  placed 
this  money  in  the  safe  with  the  understanding  that 
he  was  to  deposit  it  properly  in  the  morning  with- 
out fail. 

How  long  after  his  departure  she  and  her  hus- 
band continued  their  conversation  Mrs.  Trask  is 
unable  to  say.  (This  seems  reasonable,  as  she  is 
still  in  a  very  emotional  and  excited  condition.) 
At  most,  she  thinks  it  could  not  have  been  longer 


12  ON  TRIAL 

than  half  an  hour.  They  went  to  their  respective 
bedrooms,  both  of  which  appear  to  open  off  the 
library.  (I  should  like  to  see  a  plan  of  the 
house.)  She  had  hardly  begun  her  toilet  for  the 
night,  when  she  fancied  that  she  heard  a  slight 
noise  in  the  room  she  had  just  quitted.  Suppos- 
ing that  it  was  her  husband  returning  for  a  book 
or  a  magazine,  she  opened  the  door  to  beg  him  not 
to  read  late.  (It  seems  that  he  had  the  bad  habit 
of  reading  in  bed;  a  practice  which  cannot  fail  to 
be  injurious  to  the  eyes.) 

She  had  no  sooner  stepped  into  the  room,  than 
she  was  seized  by  the  throat  by  a  man  who  seemed 
to  spring  from  behind  the  door.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment her  head  was  enveloped  in  a  towel  or  cloth 
of  some  sort,  and  she  was  forced  to  the  floor. 
(The  cloth  thrown  over  her  head  turns  out  to 
have  been  an  embroidered  scarf,  or  table  cloth, 
which  her  assailant  had  snatched  from  the  library 
table,  presumedly  for  the  purpose  of  preventing 
her  from  crying  out.)  She  was  only  able  to  give 
a  muffled  scream  before  her  head  struck  heavily 
against  the  edge  of  a  leather  divan  that  stood  in 
the  room. 


THE  MURDER  13 

She  was  on  the  point  of  losing  consciousness, 
partly  from  the  blow  caused  by  the  impact  of  her 
head  against  the  furniture,  and  partly  from  the 
tight  hold  on  her  throat,  when  she  became  aware 
that  the  room,  up  to  that  moment  in  complete 
darkness,  was  suddenly  flooded  with  light.  From 
what  seemed  to  her  a  long  way  off,  she  heard  her 
husband's  voice  at  the  telephone.  Whether  he 
had  come  into  the  room  in  response  to  a  ring  from 
the  telephone,  she  is  unable  to  say. 

The  next  instant  three  things  occurred  almost 
simultaneously.  There  came  the  quick  report  of 
a  pistol  shot  (she  does  not  pretend  to  have  recog- 
nised what  it  was  at  the  time),  the  grip  on  her 
throat  was  suddenly  relaxed,  and,  as  with  a  scream 
she  attempted  to  free  her  head  from  the  scarf  and 
struggle  to  her  feet,  she  heard  her  husband  ex- 
claim: "Strickland!" 

She  had  just  succeeded  in  getting  the  scarf 
partly  away  from  her  face  when  the  pistol  rang 
out  again.  She  saw  her  husband  reel  and  fall, 
as  Glover,  armed  with  a  heavy  strck,  rushed  in  and 
felled  the  assassin  with  a  blow  on  the  arm,  the 
pistol  falling  from  his  hand  as  he  went  down. 


14  ON  TRIAL 

Young  Glover  seems  to  have  acted  with  ad- 
mirable presence  of  mind.  He  at  once  telephoned 
for  the  nearest  doctor,  ordered  the  butler  to  stand 
guard  over  the  disabled  Strickland,  while  he,  him- 
self, examined  the  contents  of  the  safe,  the  door  of 
which  stood  open. 

Everything  was  intact  except  the  drawer  in 
which,  a  little  earlier,  he  had  placed  the  ten 
one  thousand  dollar  bills.  They  were  missing. 
Having  despatched  another  of  the  men  servants  in 
search  of  the  police,  he  saw  to  it  that,  as  far  as 
possible,  the  room  was  left  in  the  exact  condition 
in  which  he  had  found  it.  Even  the  French  win- 
dows at  the  back  of  the  room  were  left  open,  in- 
dicating the  probable  course  taken  by  the  man 
who  had  half  strangled  Mrs.  Trask. 

He  thought  of  another  thing.  The  card  upon 
which  was  written  the  numbers  making  the  com- 
bination of  the  safe,  which  Trask  thought  he  must 
have  given  to  Strickland,  might  reasonably  be  sup- 
posed to  be  still  in  his  possession.  He  bent  over 
the  man,  still  lying  on  the  floor,  groaning  with 
pain,  and  searched  his  pockets.  The  card  was  in 
one  of  the  side  pockets  of  his  coat.  After  the 


THE  MURDER  15 

arrival  of  the  police,  the  safe  was  closed  and 
re-opened  by  means  of  the  combination  found  on 
this  card. 

The  doctor,  a  physician  by  the  name  of  Morgan, 
found  that  Trask  must  have  died  instantly.  The 
second  shot  had  entered  the  body  just  above  the 
left  breast,  and  had  penetrated  the  heart.  The 
first  one  had  merely  grazed  the  right  shoulder. 
Finding  that  it  was  too  late  to  do  anything  for 
Trask,  Dr.  Morgan  turned  his  attention  to  Strick- 
land whose  arm  was  badly  fractured  by  the  blow 
from  Glover's  heavy  cane.  He  was  in  great  pain. 

A  search  of  the  house  showed  that  nothing  had 
been  disturbed  in  any  way  outside  of  the  room  in 
which  the  tragedy  had  occurred.  No  examination 
of  the  ground  outside  of  the  French  windows  was 
attempted.  (It  would  have  been  a  waste  of  time 
in  any  case,  as  two  of  the  servants  had  dashed  out 
that  way  as  soon  as  they  learned  that  Mrs.  Trask' s 
assailant  had  escaped.  Any  clues  that  might  have 
otherwise  been  of  value  would  have  been  hope- 
lessly confused,  where  not  entirely  obliterated. 
The  secretary  should,  of  course,  have  thought  of 
this  and  prevented  all  such  futile  running  about. 


16  ON  TRIAL 

But  he  is  young  and,  on  the  whole,  conducted  him- 
self with  a  presence  of  mind  not  often  found  in  a 
man  of  his  years.) 

Having  carefully  gone  over  my  summary,  and 
satisfied  myself  that  I  had  left  out  nothing,  how- 
ever trifling,  which  might  have  any  bearing  on  the 
case — it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  I  discarded 
all  the  theories  both  of  the  reporters  and  the  de- 
tectives which,  to  my  mind,  occupied  a  large 
amount  of  space  that  might  have  been  used  to 
much  better  purpose  if  they  had  printed  the  mul- 
tiplication table,  which  would  have  been  quite  as 
interesting  and  much  more  instructive — I  prepared 
to  go  out  for  a  long  walk.  It  has  always  been  my 
experience  that  my  mind  works  more  clearly  in 
the  open. 

I  had  no  business  for  the  moment  that  was  at 
all  pressing.  While  I  had  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  I  would  ever  have  any  official  connection  with 
the  Strickland  case — for  Strickland  must  have 
many  friends  who  would  back  him  at  least  to  the 
extent  of  engaging  a  lawyer — it  nevertheless  in- 
trigued my  interest. 

Certainly,  on  the  surface,  it  presented  no  prob- 


THE  MURDER  17 

lem.  It  was  as  simple  as  two  plus  two  equals 
four,  according  to  the  sleuths  of  the  press.  A 
man,  entering  a  house  for  the  purpose  of  robbery, 
kills  the  owner  who  recognises  him,  upon  being 
surprised  in  the  act.  As  for  the  other  man  who 
at  the  same  time  had  attacked  the  owner's  wife? 
Well,  he  was  an  accomplice.  What  else  could 
he  be?  All  very  pretty;  but  I  took  no  stock  in  it 
whatever. 

Telling  McLean  that  I  might  not  be  back  until 
dinner  time — a  piece  of  information  which  he  re- 
ceived with  an  air  of  dazed  respect,  showing  that, 
for  the  moment,  his  mind  was  entirely  occupied 
with  his  papers — I  left  the  house  bound  for  the 
Park.  On  the  way  up,  I  would  make  it  a  point 
to  take  a  look  at  the  late  home  of  Gerald  Trask, 
which  would  only  take  me  a  little  out  of  my  way. 


CHAPTER  II 

I  MEET  WITH  UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT 

I  CANNOT  say  that  my  walk  was  productive  of 
any  very  wonderful  inspiration.  Not  that  I  had 
had  any  expectation  that  it  would  be.  I  had,  so 
far,  too  few  facts  to  enable  me  to  build  up  much 
of  a  theory.  I  have  always  held  with  those  who 
declare  that  the  only  way  to  attack  a  problem  of 
the  nature  of  the  one  that  just  now  possessed  me 
was  to  approach  it  with  a  perfectly  open  mind, 
entirely  without  prejudice.  But  I  am,  I  hope, 
sufficiently  honest  to  confess  that  in  this  particu- 
lar case  I  was  unable  to  do  so.  I  deferred  debat- 
ing the  matter  with  myself,  however,  until  I 
should  have  had  a  look  at  the  Trask  house  with 
which,  as  I  have  said,  I  was  not  familiar. 

As  I  had  surmised,  there  was  little  to  be  seen 
when  I  reached  the  street.  The  usual  crowd  of 
persons  inspired  by  morbid  curiosity  were  before 
me.  A  small  force  of  police  were  occupied  in 

keeping  the  ever-increasing  mob  in  motion.     After 

18 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  19 

all,  it  was  only  natural.  The  papers  had  "played 
up"  the  murder  too  well  for  any  one  with  a  serious 
purpose  in  studying  the  scene  of  the  crime  to  have 
any  chance,  at  least  for  the  moment. 

Already,  although  it  lacked  fully  two  hours  till 
noon,  the  newsboys  were  hawking  extras  purport- 
ing to  throw  fresh  light  on  the  Trask  murder,  on 
every  street  corner.  I  noticed  that  they  seemed 
to  be  doing  a  thriving  business  in  the  crowd  around 
the  Trask  house.  How  some  of  the  ragged  tatter- 
demalions were  able  to  afford  the  penny  for  the 
purchase,  was  a  mystery. 

I  would  have  been  willing  to  wager  a  con- 
siderable sum — and  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  bet- 
ting, as  a  rule — that  the  majority  of  the  persons 
before  me  had  heard  Gerald  Trask' s  name  for  the 
first  time  in  their  lives  within  the  last  twelve 
hours.  And  yet  from  the  scraps  of  conversation 
which  I  overheard  during  the  short  time  I  re- 
mained in  the  neighbourhood,  one  would  have 
judged  that  many  of  them  were  on  terms  ap- 
proaching intimacy,  if  not  with  him,  with  some 
member  of  the  family.  Certainly  few  of  them 
looked  as  if  they  were  drawn  from  the  class  which 


20  ON  TRIAL 

would  have  supposedly  formed  either  the  busi- 
ness or  social  associates  of  the  late  banker. 
Truly,  human  vanity  manifests  itself  in  curious 
ways! 

While  moralising  after  this  fashion,  I  took  as 
careful  a  look  at  the  darkened  house  as  the  circum- 
stances permitted.  I  confess  to  having  experi- 
enced a  momentary  longing  to  break  through  the 
police  guard  and  mount  the  steps  to  that  door  be- 
hind which  lay  the  possible  solution  of  the  mystery 
which  so  greatly  interested  me.  I  would  have, 
just  then,  given  a  good  deal  to  be  left  by  myself 
in  that  darkened  room,  the  scene  of  the  murder. 

The  house  itself  had  no  intrinsic  interest  from 
an  artistic  or  architectural  point  of  view.  Its 
"note"  was  a  certain  solidity — the  sort  of  home 
appropriate  for  a  sound  man  of  business  who  cared 
nothing  for  display.  It  differed  but  little  from 
its  neighbours.  Owing  to  the  fact  that  it  stood  at 
the  end  of  a  long  row  of  similar  buildings,  it  had 
the  advantage  of  appearing  a  little  larger  because 
it  had  more  ground.  At  some  time  or  another,  the 
banker  had  bought  the  corner  lot  which  had  been 
utilised  as  a  small  flower  garden. 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  21 

It  was  through  this  enclosure,  apparently,  that 
Mrs.  Trask's  assailant  had  made  his  escape. 
Nothing  could  have  been  easier.  Even  as  I 
passed,  I  noticed  that  the  low  iron  gate  in  the 
fence  would  have  presented  no  obstacle  to  a  man 
of  ordinary  activity.  I  felt  quite  certain  that  I 
could  have  vaulted  it  myself.  A  broad  walk  of 
heavy  flag-stone  bisected  the  little  garden.  Right 
under  a  sort  of  bay-window — or  rather,  a  sort  of 
alcove  whose  three  sides  were  composed  of  so- 
called  French  windows,  and  which  had  apparently 
been  added  after  the  house  was  built — it  took  a 
sharp  turn  towards  the  back  of  the  house.  A 
man,  stepping  out  of  one  of  these  windows  had 
nothing  to  do  but  run  down  the  walk,  come  out 
through,  or  over,  the  gate,  and  go  on  down  the 
street.  A  hedge,  which  grew  back  of  the  orna- 
mental iron  fence,  would  have  screened  him  suffi- 
ciently to  make  it  an  easy  matter. 

Satisfied  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  seen 
at  present,  I  proceeded  on  my  way  to  the  Park. 
Once  there,  I  selected  one  of  those  uncomfortable 
benches  whose  backs  curve  at  exactly  the  wrong 
place  with  which  the  authorities  have  chosen  to 


22  ON  TRIAL 

equip  our  pleasure  ground,  and  gave  myself  up  to 
a  fresh  consideration  of  the  few  facts  in  the  case 
that  were  in  my  possession. 

That  Gerald  Trask  had  been  murdered  by 
Robert  Strickland  seemed  to  be  beyond  dispute. 
He  had  been  taken  "red  handed,"  to  use  McLean's 
expression,  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand,  standing  over 
the  body  of  his  victim.  The  remote  possibility 
that  Trask  had  been  shot  by  the  other  man,  I  dis- 
missed for  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  al- 
though there  was  nothing  in  Mrs.  Trask' s  state- 
ment to  show  that  she  had  ever  laid  eyes  on 
Strickland  before,  the  fact  that  she  heard  her  hus- 
band call  out:  "Strickland!"  as  she  described, 
showed  that  it  was  on  him  that  his  attention  was 
focussed.  Granted,  for  the  moment,  that  the 
other  man  had  done  the  shooting,  and  escaped  with 
his  pistol  as  well  as  the  ten  thousand  dollars,  what 
was  Strickland  doing  with  his  pistol?  If  he  had 
drawn  it  to  defend  his  friend,  why  had  he  not 
fired  at  the  murderer  as  he  made  his  dash  for  free- 
dom*? There  were  only  two  shots  fired,  and  both 
were  accounted  for  by  the  doctor.  Above  all, 
what  was  Strickland  doing  in  his  friend's  house, 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  23 

having  entered  by  stealth,  at  that  time  of 
night  ^ 

In  the  second  place,  I  was  by  no  means  satis- 
fied that  there  had  ever  been  another  man. 
There  was  nothing  in  Mrs.  Trask's  account  to 
establish  the  fact  of  his  presence.  No  one  had 
seen  him.  She  had  been  seized  by  the  throat  on 
entering  the  room.  The  scarf  had  been  thrown 
over  her  head  at  the  same  time.  It  seemed  per- 
fectly possible  for  a  man  of  average  strength  to 
hold  a  dazed  and  frightened  woman  by  his  left 
hand  while  he  fired  his  pistol  with  his  right. 
What  was  there  to  show  that  Strickland  had  not 
acted  alone1? 

But  how  about  the  ten  thousand  dollars  which 
was  missing  from  the  safe,  I  hear  you  ask.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  secretary  had 
placed  it  there  while  his  employer  and  his  wife 
were  in  the  roorru  It  certainly  was  not  there  when 
he  examined  the  safe  later.  And  when  he  had 
searched  Strickland's  pocket  for  the  incriminating 
card,  he  had  not  found  it.  Had  Strickland 
hurled  it  back  of  some  piece  of  furniture,  or  thrown 
it  under  the  divan,  or  otherwise  ridden  himself  of 


24  ON  TRIAL 

it  before  Glover  struck  him  down?  That  would 
argue  that  he  had  anticipated  the  attack. 

A  man  would  hardly  go  to  the  length  of  enter- 
ing the  house  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  bene- 
factor for  the  purpose  of  stealing  the  money  which 
he  had  paid  him  earlier  in  the  evening,  too  late  to 
be  deposited  in  the  regular  way  in  the  bank,  shoot 
him  down  in  cold  blood,  and  then  throw  away  the 
booty  which  he  had  risked  so  much  to  get.  Even 
if  he  had  escaped  for  the  moment,  and  it  never 
occurred  to  any  one  to  search  the  room  for  the 
missing  money,  how  could  he  ever  hope,  hunted  as 
a  murderer,  to  be  able  to  come  back  and  recover 
it*?  The  idea  was  absurd.  But  I  had  my  own 
theory  about  that  missing  money  which  I  was  for 
the  moment  keeping  in  the  back  of  my  mind  until 
I  should  have  something  more  tangible  than  I  had 
at  present  to  go  on. 

While,  as  I  have  said,  I  had  no  acquaintance 
with  Robert  Strickland,  everything  that  I  had  ever 
heard  of  him — and  I  had  heard  a  good  deal  at  one 
time  and  another — was  opposed  to  the  theory  that 
he  had  entered  the  Trask  house  for  the  purpose  of 
robbing  the  safe.  That  he  had  come  with  some 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  25 

sinister  purpose  could  not  be  denied.  Otherwise, 
he  would  have  come  in  the  ordinary  way  to  the 
front  door,  no  matter  how  late  the  hour,  if  his 
business  had  been  sufficiently  urgent.  But  it  must 
also  be  remembered  that  he  had  already  seen  Trask 
earlier  in  the  evening,  and  that  the  hour  could  not 
be  considered  extraordinarily  late,  for  the  whole 
shocking  affair  had  taken  place  before  midnight. 
Whatever  his  purpose,  I  was  convinced — and  here 
is  where  I  threw  the  theory  of  approaching  my 
problem  with  an  unprejudiced  and  open  mind 
overboard — that  it  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  ten 
thousand  dollars.  Another  argument  against  the 
presence  of  the  other  man  in  the  room.  It  would 
be  stretching  the  long  arm  of  coincidence  pretty 
far  to  suggest  that  by  chance  two  men,  unknown 
to  each  other,  had  entered  the  same  house  the 
same  night,  each  with  his  own  secret  and  unlaw^ 
ful  purpose. 

Of  course  I  was  perfectly  aware  that  my  theo- 
ries would  be  considered  the  fantastic  vapourings 
of  an  amateur  by  the  professional  detectives. 
No  doubt  they  had  already  built  up  the  case  on 
the  foundation  that  Strickland  had  come  to  rob 


26  ON  TRIAL 

the  safe  bringing  his  accomplice,  a  professional 
safe-cracker,  naturally,  with  him.  The  murder 
that  followed  was  an  unpremeditated  accident. 
It  had  been  no  part  of  the  original  plan,  and  was 
merely  the  desperate  effort  of  the  detected  thief 
to  make  good  his  escape.  He  had  to  kill  the  only 
person  who  could  have  identified  him.  The  whole 
thing  was  as  simple  as  A-B-C !  So  it  was,  if  one 
could  believe  it.  I  couldn't. 

Still,  I  had  to  acknowledge  to  myself  that  I 
had  as  yet  nothing  to  offer  in  substitution  for  what 
I  foresaw  would  be  the  popular  and  accepted  ver- 
sion of  the  crime  and  the  motives  behind  it. 
Nothing  that  I  knew  of  Strickland  was  of  the 
least  assistance  whatever.  Would  my  knowledge 
of  Trask  be  of  greater  help*?  Let  us  see. 

Gerald  Trask  I  had  known  personally.  He 
happened  to  belong  to  my  club,  and  it  was  there, 
if  I  remember  correctly,  that  I  first  met  him.  I 
could  not  recall  that  I  had  ever  had  any  conver- 
sation of  any  length  with  him  either  there  or 
anywhere  else.  I  am  not  much  of  a  club  man 
at  best.  I  am  sometimes  a  whole  month  without 
entering  either  of  the  clubs  to  which  I  belong. 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  27 

Trask,  who  was  what  is  vaguely  described  as  a 
man-about-town,  and  who  I  learn  from  the 
papers,  belonged  to  half  a  dozen  other  clubs,  prob- 
ably preferred  any  of  the  others  to  the  one  in 
which  we  shared  the  honour  of  membership.  In- 
deed, I  had  once  overheard  him  admit  to  a  friend 
that  he  considered  it  absurdly  old  fogy.  Well, 
I  can  only  say  that  I  think  that  most  of  the  mem- 
bers were  well  content  that  he  should  think  so. 
I  know  I  was. 

For  there  is  no  doubt  that  Gerald  Trask  was 
not  popular  with  men.  Just  why,  it  would  per- 
haps be  difficult  to  say.  He  was  superficially  a 
suave,  polished  man-of-the-world.  There  was  no 
criticism  to  be  made  of  his  manners.  He  was, 
if  anything,  a  shade  too  coldly  polite.  Upon  oc- 
casion he  affected  a  sort  of  cordiality.  But  it 
never  rang  true.  He  never  could  disguise  a  cer- 
tain cynical  hardness  which  one  felt  was  his  real 
disposition.  Behind  his  mask  of  good-fellowship, 
there  lurked  something  intrinsically  repellent. 

His  reputation  for  honesty  in  business  was  of 
the  best.  But  his  reputation  outside  of  his  busi- 
ness left  much  to  be  desired.  I  cannot  recall 


28  ON  TRIAL 

that  I  ever  heard  any  definite  charge  made  against 
him,  but  he  had  an  evil  repute  where  women  were 
concerned.  How  it  arose,  I  do  not  know,  but  it 
certainly  existed.  Was  it  not  possible  that  a 
woman  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  tragedy? 
Some  woman  in  whom  both  the  men  were  inter- 
ested? 

Of  his  wife,  I  knew  little.  I  never  saw  her 
to  my  knowledge.  She  had  the  reputation  of 
caring  a  great  deal  for  society.  I  have  seen  her 
picture  frequently  in  the  papers.  I  believe  that 
she  is  considered  handsome  in  a  large,  imposing, 
cold  way.  They  have,  I  think,  one  or  two  chil- 
dren still  at  school.  The  only  person  I  ever 
heard  speak  of  Mrs.  Trask  is  a  woman,  an  old 
friend  of  my  own,  who  also  goes  a  great  deal  into 
society.  I  happened  to  be  dining  at  her  house — 
a  thing  which  I  regularly  do  twice  a  year — when 
the  woman  I  had  taken  in  to  dinner  happened  to 
speak  of  Gerald  Trask  and  asked  me  if  I  knew 
him. 

"I  just  know  him,"  I  said.  "He  happens  to 
belong  to  the  same  club  I  do.  But  we  have 
hardly  more  than  a  nodding  acquaintance." 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  29 

She  smiled  in  a  knowing  fashion.  "I  under- 
stand," she  said.  "I  never  met  a  man  who  con- 
fessed to  knowing  him  better  than  that." 

"But  I  assure  you — "  I  began. 

She  didn't  even  give  me  a  chance  to  complete 
my  sentence.  "Ethel,"  she  called  down  the  table 
to  our  hostess,  "here's  another  man  who  only 
knows  Gerald  Trask  to  bow  to!  Doesn't  that 
prove  what  I  have  always  said?" 

"It  only  proves,"  said  Mrs.  Williamson  calmly, 
"that  he  doesn't  know  Joan  Trask.  I  have  known 
her  longer  than  any  one  in  town.  I  went  to 
school  with  her.  I  am  far  from  defending  him. 
But  I  do  say  that  Joan  Trask  is  the  explanation 
for  all  the  stories  that  are  told  about  her  hus- 
band." 

From  which  I  inferred  that  if  Gerald  Trask 
were  not  a  man's  man,  his  wife  was  not  a  woman's 
woman. 

Robert  Strickland  was  also  married,  I  had 
heard.  But  I  had  an  idea  that  he  and  his  wife 
had  always  lived  very  quietly,  caring  little  for 
society.  I  had  been  told  that  they  had  one  child. 
Whether  it  was  a  boy  or  a  girl,  I  did  not  for  the 


30  ON  TRIAL 

moment  recall.  His  friends  had,  naturally,  not 
seen  so  much  of  him  since  he  had  met  with  his 
financial  reverses.  It  was  said  that  he  was  plan- 
ning to  leave  New  York  to  try  his  fortunes  some 
place  in  the  West. 

These  meagre  facts,  together  with  the  ones  I 
have  already  recapitulated  from  the  newspapers, 
represented  the  sum  total  of  my  knowledge  of 
the  principal  characters  in  the  drama  which  was 
about  to  be  unfolded,  and  in  which  I  was  to  have 
a  much  greater  interest  than  I  yet  suspected. 

Having  discovered  that  it  was  far  past  my 
regular  hour  for  luncheon — a  fact  which  annoyed 
me  greatly,  for  I  am  a  strong  believer  in  regularity 
in  the  general  conduct  of  life — I  made  my  way 
to  a  quiet  hotel  in  the  neighbourhood  where  I 
knew  that  the  cooking  was  plain  and  good  and 
the  prices  reasonable.  The  chief  objection  to 
eating  away  from  one's  home  now-a-days  is  that 
you  never  know  what  you  are  eating  nor  what 
you  are  going  to  be  asked  to  pay.  I  make  it  a 
rule  to  have  all  my  meals  at  my  own  house  with 
rare  exceptions.  This,  of  course,  was  an  excep- 
tional occasion. 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  31 

After  having  spent  some  little  time  over  a  lunch 
that  was  quite  satisfactory,  all  things  being  con- 
sidered, I  determined  to  dismiss  the  Trask  murder 
from  my  mind  for  the  time  being.  Nothing  was 
to  be  gained  by  stewing  over  it  any  longer  until 
some  fresh  facts  presented  themselves.  I  had 
some  pottering  work,  the  sort  of  thing  that  one 
can  do  without  using  much  thought,  that  I  al- 
ways keep  on  hand  for  just  such  occasions.  I 
would  go  home  and  paste  up  some  articles  in  my 
scrap-book.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  have  a  cold 
supper  in  place  of  my  usual  dinner.  My  forget- 
fulness  about  my  noon-day  meal  had  upset  my 
routine  for  the  day. 

McLean  being  out  when  I  returned  home,  I 
wrote  the  necessary  directions  on  the  slate  which 
hangs  in  the  back  of  the  hall  for  that  purpose. 
I  found  it  impossible  to  interest  myself  in  my 
scrap-book,  so,  firmly  determined  not  to  let  my 
mind  return  to  the  forbidden  subject,  I  threw 
myself  on  the  sofa  in  my  library  with  a  new  mys- 
tery story  which  had  just  come  in  a  package  with 
a  number  of  others  from  my  bookseller's.  I  fear 
the  worthy  man  has  a  small  opinion  of  my  liter- 


32  ON  TRIAL 

ary  tastes.  I  have  a  standing  order  with  him  to 
supply  me  with  all  the  detective  stories  in  French, 
Italian,  and  English  as  fast  as  they  appear.  The 
one  I  selected  was  of  slight  interest.  In  a  few 
moments  I  gave  it  up  and,  feeling  excessively 
drowsy,  fell  asleep. 

It  was  over  an  hour  later  that  McLean  awoke 
me  to  tell  me  that  my  supper  was  ready.  When 
I  reached  the  dining-room,  I  found  the  evening 
papers  lying  on  the  end  of  the  table.  A  glance 
at  the  headlines  convinced  me  that  there  was 
nothing  new  of  any  importance.  Probably  there 
wouldn't  be  until  after  the  inquest. 

Supper  over,  I  took  the  opportunity  while 
McLean  was  bringing  me  the  cigars,  to  ask  him 
what  he  thought  of  the  affair  on  the  whole.  I 
could  tell  by  his  manner  that  he  suspected  me 
of  wishing  to  draw  him  out  without  letting  him 
know  my  own  opinions.  Consequently  he  was 
more  than  usually  cautious,  which,  in  McLean,  a 
typical  Scot,  is  saying  a  great  deal.  I  saw  that  I 
would  have  to  give  him  a  lead. 

"What  is   your  idea   about  the   other  man? 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  33 

The  accomplice,  or  whatever  you  choose  to  call 
him;  the  one  who  got  the  money*?" 

But  McLean  was  not  to  be  had  so  easily.  He 
hadn't  seen  it  stated  anywhere  that  any  man  got 
the  money. 

"You  certainly  read  that  a  sum  of  money  had 
disappeared  from  the  safe?" 

"Yes.     I  read  that." 

"Well?  Or  perhaps  you  don't  believe  the  sec- 
retary's story  about  putting  the  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars in  the  safe  with  his  own  hands?" 

"Yes.     I  believe  he  did  what  he  said." 

"Oh,  then  you  think  that  it  is  still  there,  per- 
haps. That  in  his  excitement  he  overlooked  it. 
Is  that  your  idea?" 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not.  I  think  that,  for  a  young 
man,  he  kept  his  head  very  cool  indeed.  I  think 
that  if  it  was  there  when  he  was  looking  for  it, 
he  would  have  found  it." 

"But  if  it  wasn't  there,  who  did  get  it?  I 
asked  you  if  you  thought  that  the  man  who  half 
strangled  Mrs.  Trask  got  it." 

McLean's  lip  twitched  slightly. 


34  ON  TRIAL 

"No,  sir,  I  don't  think  he  got  it,"  he  said  dryly. 

"And  why  not,  pray4?"  I  asked,  in  pretended 
surprise. 

"Because  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  he  was  ever 
there.  I've  yet  to  hear  of  any  one  who  really 
saw  him." 

"But  Mrs.  Trask?" 

"She  didn't  see  him." 

"Man  alive!     He  half  choked  her!" 

"She  didn't  see  him,"  repeated  McLean  dog- 
gedly. 

"Oh!  Then  you  think  that  it  was  Strickland 
with  whom  she  had  the  struggle?" 

"Perhaps." 

"And  that  it  was  he  who  got  the  money?" 

"I'm  not  saying  that." 

I  sprang  out  of  my  chair  with  a  movement  of 
impatience  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the 
room.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  didn't  want  McLean 
to  see  my  face.  I  confess  to  not  having  the 
self-control  that  my  admirable  domestic  pos- 
sesses ! 

"Well,  if  there  was  no  such  man  there  as  Mrs. 
Trask  seems  to  believe,  and  Strickland  didn't  get 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  35 

the  money,  and  it  isn't  still  in  the  safe,  then 
there  is  only  the  secretary  left,  and  he  didn't  put 
it  there  in  the  first  place  after  all." 

"I  think  you're  forgetting  some  one,  sir." 

At  that  moment  I  was  fortunately  walking 
towards  the  other  end  of  the  room.  By  the  time 
I  had  turned,  I  was  able  to  look  completely  puz- 
zled. 

"Who  on  earth  can  you  mean?" 

McLean  gave  me  a  look  which  suggested  that 
he  was  not  in  the  least  taken  in. 

"Mrs.  Trask,  sir." 

"Mrs.  Trask!  You  think  she  took  the 
money?" 

"I  do,  sir." 

"Robbed  her  own  husband?" 

"She  wouldn't  be  the  first  woman  who's  done 
it."  McLean  is  revoltingly  cynical,  in  the  mat- 
ter of  women. 

"Perhaps  you  think  she  killed  him  as  well?" 

He  paid  no  attention  to  this  question. 

"But  she  didn't  know  the  combination  of  the 
safe." 

"Neither  did  the  secretary,  sir." 


36  ON  TRIAL 

"The  only  two  people  who  could  have  known 
it  were  Trask,  himself,  and  Strickland." 

"Maybe  Trask  had  the  money,  then.  I  haven't 
heard  that  they  searched  his  pockets." 

"But  they  did  search  Strickland's.  The  secre- 
tary couldn't  have  missed  those  bills  when  he  was 
going  through  Strickland's  pockets  looking  for 
that  card." 

"Exactly." 

"But  don't  you  remember  that  Mrs.  Trask 
didn't  know  the  combination  of  the  safe?  It  is 
explicitly  stated  that  it  was  a  new  one  and  that 
she  had  neglected  to  get  the  combination  from 
her  husband.  That's  why  Glover  had  to  wait 
until  Trask  returned  before  he  could  get  the  books 
he  wanted  out  of  the  safe.  And  it  was  Trask, 
himself,  who  opened  it  after  his  return.  You 
don't  pretend  to  believe  that  any  one  not  an  ex- 
perienced safe-opener  could  master  a  combination 
consisting  of  a  succession  of  numbers  from  seeing 
another  person  use  it  once?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  she  could  have." 

"What  do  you  think,  then?" 

"I  think  that  even  if  it  was  true  that  she  didn't 


UNEXPECTED  SUPPORT  37 

know  it  in  the  first  place,  she  had  plenty  of  time 
to  find  it  out  while  she  was  talking  to  her  husband 
after  the  secretary  had  gone  upstairs.  It  looks 
as  if  she  had  always  known  it  before.  She  could 
ask  for  it  perfectly  naturally  while  the  subject 
was  fresh  in  her  mind." 

And  I  hadn't  thought  of  that! 

"She  must  have  had  some  definite  scheme  for 
accounting  for  the  disappearance  of  the  money 
in  the  morning." 

"Well,  she  didn't  have  to  use  it  if  she  did." 

I  couldn't  dispute  that! 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    INQUEST 

As  I  have  said,  the  evening  papers  contained  noth- 
ing of  any  importance.  The  same  might  be  said 
of  the  papers  on  the  following  morning.  I  do 
not  mean  that  columns  were  not  devoted  to  the 
"Great  Trask  Murder  Mystery."  It  was  "fea- 
tured" on  all  the  front  pages,  and  overflowed  onto 
many  others  to  the  exclusion  of  almost  all  other 
news,  it  seemed.  Fortunately,  at  the  particular 
time  at  which  the  murder  had  occurred  there 
seemed  to  be  a  dearth  of  news  of  importance. 

I  would  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  newspaper 
reporters  are  sufficiently  hardened  to  pray  for 
murder  stories,  but  I  do  think  that  they  accept 
them  philosophically  as  they  accept  much  else  that 
is  disagreeable,  and  with  a  distinct  feeling  of 
gratitude  when  they  arrive  in  a  season  which  is 
as  dull  from  a  news  point  of  view  as  the  summer 
often  is. 

I  left  the  thorough  reading  of  them  to  McLean, 


THE  INQUEST  39 

who  devoured  the  smallest  paragraph.  I  was 
quite  content  to  skim  through  them,  knowing  well 
that  if  he  came  across  anything  really  significant, 
he  would  keep  me  informed.  But  I  saw  enough 
of  them  to  assure  me  that  the  marvellous  inge- 
nuity of  my  friends  of  the  press  showed  no  sign 
of  approaching  exhaustion. 

The  most  elaborate  and  ingenious  solutions 
were  spun  from  the  most  tenuous  of  threads. 
Facts  that  could  not  be  explained  away  were  ig- 
nored. Everybody  who  had  the  most  remote  con- 
nection with  the  case  was  interviewed.  The  chase 
for  the  missing  accomplice  was  in  full  cry.  But 
the  only  thing  that  was  accomplished  in  that  di- 
rection was  to  throw  suspicion  for  a  moment  on 
a  rich  South  American,  who  had  carelessly  ten- 
dered a  thousand  dollar  bill  in  payment  for  a 
purchase  in  one  of  the  largest  shops. 

Two  things  I  noted  with  interest.  No  one 
seemed  to  doubt  the  existence  of  the  second  man, 
and  if  any  one  shared  with  McLean  and  me  the 
suspicion  that  Mrs.  Trask  might  be  able  to  ac- 
count for  the  missing  bills,  it  was  carefully  kept 
out  of  print.  There  was  one  other  thing  that 


40  ON  TRIAL 

both  puzzled  and  interested  me.  Every  one  con- 
nected with  the  Trask  family,  relatives  and  serv- 
ants alike,  had  been  cross-examined.  But  of 
Mrs.  Strickland,  the  wife  of  the  accused  man,  no 
slightest  mention  had  been  made.  As  far  as  I 
could  ascertain,  she  had  not  even  been  to  see  her 
husband  since  his  detention. 

It  was  quite  natural  to  suppose  that  this  terri- 
ble blow  had  prostrated  her.  But,  if  so,  was  not 
that  an  important  bit  of  news?  And  what 
woman  as  devoted  to  her  husband  as  Mrs.  Strick- 
land was  said  to  be  would  not  have  been  able  to 
draw  upon  that  marvellous  nervous  force  which 
even  the  weakest  women  possess  sufficiently  to  en- 
able her  to  take  her  place  at  his  side  in  this 
dreadful  time"?  I  was  convinced  that  there  was 
more  in  this  singular  reticence  in  regard  to  Mrs. 
Strickland  than  met  the  eye. 

The  hour  appointed  for  the  inquest  found  me 
early  at  the  door  of  the  court  room.  I  had  antici- 
pated that  the  widespread  interest  in  this  case, 
presenting  as  it  did,  such  unusual  features,  would 
draw  a  perfect  throng  of  the  same  class  of  persons 
as  still  haunted  the  scene  of  the  crime.  I  may 


THE  INQUEST  41 

say  that  I  was  not  disappointed.  Fortunately,  I 
was  sufficiently  well  known  to  obtain  entrance 
without  trouble. 

I  had  no  sooner  found  a  seat  well  up  toward 
the  front  of  the  room  where  I  could  both  see  and 
hear  everything,  than  I  noticed  McLean  standing 
at  the  far  end,  near  one  of  the  windows.  Just 
how  he  had  managed  to  get  in,  I  am  not  sure — a 
great  number  of  people  had  been  turned  away — 
but  I  have  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  he  is  nearly, 
if  not  quite,  as  well  known  to  the  minor  officials 
as  I  am.  He  had  asked  if  he  might  have  a  few 
hours  off.  It  would  not  have  been  McLean,  if 
he  had  mentioned  what  he  purposed  doing  with 
his  leisure.  But  I  was  not  at  all  surprised  at 
seeing  him. 

I  am  not  going  to  give  a  detailed  account  of 
the  proceedings.  Naturally,  all  the  salient  points 
of  the  evidence  that  came  out  at  the  inquest,  were 
brought  forth  again  at  the  trial.  But  there  were 
a  number  of  things  that  would  have  struck  any 
intelligent  layman,  interested  in  the  case,  as  im- 
portant and  interesting. 

The  figure  that  commanded  the  most  attention 


42  ON  TRIAL 

was  that  of  the  widow  of  the  murdered  man. 
She  was  dressed  in  the  deepest  mourning  and  her 
face,  except  during  the  time  she  was  on  the  stand, 
was  completely  shrouded  in  a  heavy  veil.  I  was 
struck  by  the  fact  that  she  was  both  like  and  un- 
like the  published  portraits  I  had  seen  of  her. 

In  so  far  as  they  showed  her  to  be  a  large,  im- 
posing woman  of  a  pronounced  blond  type,  the 
portraits  were  accurate.  But  what  they  utterly 
failed  to  convey — and  what,  just  why  I  cannot 
say,  surprised  me — was  that  she  possessed  far 
more  animation  than  one  usually  expects  from  a 
person  of  her  rather  bovine  type  of  beauty.  To 
be  sure,  this  animation  might  be  described  as 
intermittent.  She  would  proceed  coldly  and 
evenly  without  any  sign  of  emotion  for  some  little 
time;  then  her  eyes  and  her  whole  face  would 
lighten  with  a  flash  that  was  not  without  a  certain 
venomous  suggestion. 

Curiously  enough,  these  flashes — I  can  think  of 
no  better  word  to  use — put  me  in  mind  of  noth- 
ing so  much  as  of  the  illumination  that  follows 
the  sudden  turning  on  of  an  incandescent  electric 
light.  Just  as  their  subsidence — which  left  her 


THE  INQUEST  43 

face  wearing  its  habitual  (I  am  convinced  that 
it  was  habitual ! )  look  of  guarded  calm — brought 
to  mind  the  switching  off  of  the  same  light.  I 
began  to  be  greatly  interested  in  noting  just  what 
questions,  or  just  what  things  in  her  testimony 
produced  them.  But  of  that,  later. 

I  admit  that  the  impression  that  Mrs.  Trask 
produced  on  me  was  not  a  favourable  one.  That 
she  was  a  woman  of  a  certain  force,  was  unques- 
tionable. But  that  that  force  frequently  took  the 
form  of  obstinacy,  I  was  perfectly  convinced. 

Her  whole  manner,  while  on  the  stand,  was  not 
that  of  a  woman  recently  bereaved,  and  in  so  sud- 
den and  terrible  a  fashion.  One  gathered  the  im- 
pression that  her  mind  was  more  fully  occupied 
with  thoughts  of  revenge  than  taken  up  with  sor- 
row over  the  loss  she  had  sustained. 

Indeed,  her  voice  never  faltered  even  while  she 
was  bearing  witness  to  the  dreadful  scene  she  had 
gone  through.  Even  in  her  account  of  the  last 
conversation  that  she  was  ever  destined  to  hold 
with  her  husband,  her  icy  composure  never  de- 
serted her,  no  note  of  tenderness  ever  crept  into 
her  cold  voice.  I  began  to  read  new  meanings 


44  ON  TRIAL 

into  my  friend  Mrs.  Williamson's  remark  about 
her.  Common  report  said  that  the  Trasks  had 
not  been  happy  in  their  married  life.  Every  tone 
of  the  widow  of  Gerald  Trask  was  a  confirmation 
of  this  report. 

The  only  other  witness  of  importance — for  I 
pass,  for  the  present,  over  the  doctor  and  one  or 
two  others  of  less  interest  from  the  point  of  view 
of  their  personalities — was  the  young  secretary, 
Stanley  Glover. 

He  came  to  the  stand  with  a  certain  brisk  smart- 
ness, subdued  by  his  consciousness  of  the  serious- 
ness of  the  occasion,  and  the  important  part  he 
was  called  upon  to  take  in  the  proceedings.  Like 
most  young  people,  particularly  those  inexperi- 
enced in  appearing  in  courts,  he  displayed  a  tend- 
ency to  be  too  voluble.  An  inquest  allows  of 
greater  latitude  than  a  more  formal  trial.  But 
young  Mr.  Glover  would  have  gone  beyond 
bounds  even  then,  had  he  not  constantly  been 
held  in  check. 

However,  his  excessive  willingness  to  tell  all 
that  he  knew  and  had  heard,  as  well  as  the  various 
deductions  which  he,  himself,  drew  from  the  cir- 


THE  INQUEST  45 

cumstances,  coupled  with  what  others  had  seen 
and  heard  and  related  to  him  later,  did  not  mili- 
tate against  the  generally  favourable  impression 
which  he  made,  not  only  on  me,  but,  as  I  could 
plainly  perceive,  on  the  whole  audience. 

His  appearance  might  have  been  described  as 
"dapper."  Without  being  handsome,  he  was  by 
no  means  bad  looking.  He  had  that  direct  glance 
which  always  makes  a  good  impression ;  implying, 
as  it  does,  the  possession  of  a  frank  and  open 
nature.  From  his  ready  and  self-possessed  re- 
plies, I  judged  that  his  was  an  alert  and  active 
mind.  No  doubt,  an  admirable  secretary  for  a 
man  of  affairs. 

I  waited  for  nothing  more  after  the  secretary 
had  left  the  stand.  Whatever  testimony  was  to 
follow  would  be  more  or  less  a  matter  of  routine; 
a  confirmation  of  what  I  had  already  heard  on 
the  part  of  the  police  and  some  of  the  servants 
who  had  been  despatched  for  them  or  for  the 
doctor.  The  result  of  the  inquest  was,  of  course, 
a  foregone  conclusion.  Robert  Strickland  would 
be  indicted  for  murder,  and  the  popular  verdict 
would  be  that  he  was  guilty  of  robbery  as  well. 


46  ON  TRIAL 

Of  his  guilt  on  the  latter  count,  I  have  already 
recorded  my  opinion. 

Once  home  and  in  my  study,  I  drew  out  the 
abstract  to  which  I  have  already  referred,  in  order 
to  make  some  additions.  I  was  pleased  to  find 
that  I  had  only  one  correction  to  make.  The 
newspapers  had  placed  the  hour  of  Gerald  Trask's 
return  somewhat  earlier  than  that  testified  to  by 
his  wife  and  his  secretary  at  the  inquest.  That 
might  easily  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  in 
their  first  agitation  they  had  both  fallen  into  a 
slight  inaccuracy  which  they  were  able  to  rectify 
in  their  calmer  moments.  As  to  whether  it  was 
of  importance,  I  was  not  prepared  to  decide  as 
yet. 

I  give  the  substance  of  Mrs.  Trask's  evidence 
merely.  Not  being  a  shorthand  reporter,  I  make 
no  attempt  to  repeat  it  verbatim,  or  to  cast  it  in 
the  form  of  questions  and  answers  in  which  it 
was,  naturally,  given  at  the  inquest. 

She  had  been  dining  out  with  friends,  but  had 
left  them  at  the  conclusion  of  the  dinner,  reach- 
ing home  about  half-past  nine  o'clock.  (Trask, 
therefore,  could  not  have  returned  shortly  after 


THE  INQUEST  47 

nine,  as  his  wife  and  secretary  had  been  convers- 
ing some  moments  before  his  arrival.)  As  she 
came  in  the  front  door,  she  heard  the  telephone 
in  the  library  ring.  She  went  at  once  into  the 
library  to  answer  it. 

A  voice — a  woman's  voice  (it  was  here  that  I 
first  noticed  one  of  those  strange  flashes  in  her 
face) — asked  if  she  were  speaking  to  182  River. 
Mrs.  Trask  having  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
the  voice  went  on  to  ask  for  Mr.  Trask.  Having 
said  that  he  was  not  in,  the  witness  asked  the 
name  of  the  person  who  was  calling,  and  what  she 
wanted  to  talk  to  Mr.  Trask  about.  As  a  proof 
that  she  felt  within  her  rights  in  making  this  un- 
usual request,  she  explained  that  she  was  Mr. 
Trask3 s  wife.  (If  her  manner  at  the  time  was 
as  forbidding  as  it  was  when  she  related  the  inci- 
dent, I  am  not  surprised  that  she  got  no  satis- 
faction.) In  place  of  answering,  the  woman  at 
the  other  end  of  the  line  asked  when  Mr.  Trask 
was  expected  to  return.  Mrs.  Trask  did  not 
know. 

She  had  just  rung  off,  when  young  Glover  came 
in,  having  heard,  as  he  thought,  the  telephone 


48  ON  TRIAL 

ring.  He  had  been  upstairs  in  his  room,  which 
seems  to  have  been  above  the  library.  The  fact 
that  both  rooms  had  their  windows  open  explains 
how  he  could  have  heard  it.  Mrs.  Trask  said 
that  she  had  answered  the  ring  herself,  and  that 
some  woman  was  calling  her  husband.  She  de- 
manded of  Glover  if  he  knew  what  woman  would 
be  likely  to  call  Mr.  Trask  at  his  house  at  that 
hour  of  the  evening. 

Of  course  the  secretary  had  no  ideas  on  the 
subject.  (I'd  trust  him  for  that.)  Mrs.  Trask 
had  then  asked  if  the  secretary  was  expecting  her 
husband  home  that  night.  Yes;  he  was  expected 
on  the  9.12  train,  Glover  had  told  her.  He 
would  probably  be  back  at  any  moment,  as  it  was 
just  half-past  nine.  Mrs.  Trask  had  permitted 
herself  to  wonder  what  he  was  doing  at  Long 
Branch  at  this  particular  time,  considering  that 
the  entire  family  were  to  move  down  the  follow- 
ing week  and  that  they  would  be  there  all  sum- 
mer. Which  reminded  her  that  she  wanted  the 
secretary  to  go  over  her  tradesmen's  accounts  be- 
fore they  left. 

Glover  had  volunteered  to  do  it  at  once,  and 


THE  INQUEST  49 

had  gone  over  to  the  safe  to  get  the  books.  Find- 
ing it  locked,  he  had  asked  Mrs.  Trask  if  she 
would  give  him  the  combination.  She  confessed 
to  having  neglected  to  ask  for  it.  The  new  safe 
had  only  been  in  a  short  time.  As  Glover  never 
had  occasion  to  open  the  safe  when  his  employer 
was  away,  he  had  never  had  the  combination  of 
either  the  old  one  or  the  new  one.  (A  very  wise 
and  sensible  precaution  on  his  part.) 

Mrs.  Trask  had  just  remarked  that  she  must 
remember  to  ask  her  husband  for  it,  when  the 
door  opened  and  Trask  appeared.  The  witness 
admitted  that  she  and  her  husband  had  had  a 
few  words  on  the  subject  of  the  woman  who  had 
called  up.  (Again  her  face  became  luminous.) 
She  insisting  that  he  must  know  who  it  was,  and 
he  asserting  just  as  positively  that  he  hadn't  the 
least  idea  of  whom  it  could  have  been.  Probably 
to  create  a  diversion — for  one  can  readily  imagine 
that  such  discussions  were  embarrassing  for  the 
secretary — Glover  had  asked  his  employer  to  open 
the  safe  that  he  might  get  the  desired  books.  But 
although  Trask  turned  his  pockets  inside  out,  one 
after  another,  in  searching  for  the  card  upon  which 


50  ON  TRIAL 

he  had  written  the  new  combination,  he  could  not 
find  it. 

He  grew  quite  irritated  over  the  matter,  receiv- 
ing the  various  suggestions  offered  by  his  compan- 
ions with  rising  ill-humour.  Perhaps  he  had  left 
it  in  some  other  suit.  He  might  have  pulled 
it  out  inadvertently  with  something  else.  He 
might  even  have  left  it  down  at  Long  Branch. 
He  vetoed  all  these  suggestions.  He  had  reason 
to  know  that  he  had  had  it  in  the  inside  pocket 
of  the  coat  he  had  on,  for  he  had  opened  the  safe 
just  before  leaving  to  get  his  check  book  the  morn- 
ing before  he  left. 

Finally,  he  remembered  what  he  had  done  with 
it.  He  had  given  it  to  his  friend  Strickland. 
Upon  Glover  expressing  his  surprise,  he  explained 
that  he  had  just  come  from  Strickland's  flat. 
That  he  had  invited  him  to  come  down  to  Long 
Branch  for  Sunday,  and  had  written  the  address 
on  the  card  for  him.  He  had  never  stopped  to 
look  on  the  other  side  of  the  card.  He  was  sorry, 
but  Glover  would  have  to  wait  until  the  next  day 
for  his  books,  unless,  by  chance,  he  was  able  to 
get  the  combination  from  memory. 


THE  INQUEST  51 

After  trying  two  or  three  combinations  he  was 
able  to  hit  upon  the  right  one  and  threw  open 
the  door  of  the  safe  with  an  invitation  to  Glover 
to  help  himself. 

Confessing  that  he  was  tired  out  from  golfing 
all  day,  he  told  the  secretary  that  he  should  not 
require  him  further  that  evening,  but  kindly  in- 
vited him  to  join  the  fishing  party  for  Sunday 
morning.  They  would  go  down  Saturday  night, 
and  Strickland  was  coming  with  them. 

The  repetition  of  Strickland's  name,  recalled 
to  Glover  the  matter  of  the  note  due  two  days 
before.  Trask  explained  that  it  had  been  paid. 
Strickland  had  returned  from  Cleveland,  Ohio, 
only  that  same  evening.  From  the  train  he  had 
telegraphed  asking  Trask  to  meet  him  at  his  house. 
He  had  not  only  taken  up  the  note,  but  he  had 
paid  the  amount  in  cash,  that  is,  in  ten  one  thou- 
sand dollar  bills. 

Both  Mrs.  Trask  and  Glover  had  expressed 
their  wonder  over  a  proceeding  so  very  unbusi- 
nesslike. But  Trask,  while  admitting  that  their 
criticism  was  a  just  one,  had  related  how  Strick- 
land had  said  that  "It  had  been  so  darned  hard 


52  ON  TRIAL 

to  get  that  he  wanted  the  pleasure  of  handing 
him  the  actual  money."  (I  have  commented 
upon  the  childishness  of  this  action  before.) 

There  had  followed  a  little  discussion  between 
the  two  men,  in  which  Mrs.  Trask  confessed  that 
she  had  taken  little  interest,  and  had  not  there- 
fore followed  it  very  closely,  as  to  the  new  pros- 
pect which  Strickland's  Western  venture  seemed 
to  hold  out.  They  both  appeared  to  be  genu- 
inely glad  that  his  luck  seemed  about  to  change. 
It  had  been  particularly  hard  for  him  to  bear  his 
late  troubles  with  equanimity  on  account  of  his 
devotion  to  his  wife.  The  mention  of  Mrs. 
Strickland  had  re-awaked  Mrs.  Trask's  interest 
in  the  conversation.  (I  would  have  been  sur- 
prised if  it  hadn't!)  She  had  asked  what  Mrs. 
Strickland  was  like;  if  she  were  a  nice  woman, 
and  if  she  were  pretty.  Her  husband  had  de- 
clared himself  unable  to  answer  any  of  these  ques- 
tions. As  it  happened,  he  had  never  met  the  lady. 
He  had  directed  Glover  to  put  the  money  in  the 
safe,  and  to  deposit  it  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

Glover  had  obeyed,  and  having  been  told  that 


THE  INQUEST  53 

nothing  more  was  required  of  him  had  locked  the 
safe  and  prepared  to  retire  to  his  own  room,  prom- 
ising Mrs.  Trask  that  he  would  have  the  books 
ready  for  her  in  the  morning.  Just  as  he  was 
going  out,  Trask  called  after  him  to  ask  him  to 
remind  him  to  get  the  card  with  the  combination 
written  on  it  back  from  Strickland  as  soon  as  he 
saw  him,  remarking  that  it  was  a  damned  careless 
piece  of  business  on  his  part. 

Mrs.  Trask  admitted  with  a  reluctance,  of  the 
genuineness  of  which  I  was  by  no  means  con- 
vinced, that,  after  the  secretary  had  taken  himself 
off,  she  had  returned  to  the  subject  uppermost  in 
her  mind:  the  woman  at  the  telephone.  Again, 
she  demanded  to  know  who  it  was.  Again  he 
had  reiterated  that  he  had  no  idea.  They  had 
had  a  quarrel  over  the  matter.  Even  if  she  had 
been  really  reluctant  to  speak  of  the  matter  in  the 
first  place,  there  was  no  doubt  about  the  fact  that 
she  described  their  quarrel  with  a  certain  zest. 
She  admitted  that  it  had  been  a  more  serious  quar- 
rel than  they  had  had  for  a  very  long  time.  She 
even  said  that  it  had  been  thirteen  years  since 
they  had  had  so  serious  a  difference. 


54  ON  TRIAL 

She  had  even  threatened  him  with  divorce,  al- 
though on  what  particular  grounds  she  proposed 
to  apply  for  one,  she  did  not  say.  And  then  a 
curious  thing  came  out  which  had  no  direct  bear- 
ing on  the  subject  of  their  immediate  quarrel.  It 
appears  that  for  six  years,  that  is  during  the  life 
of  the  elder  Trask,  his  son's  marriage  had  been 
kept  secret. 

Mrs.  Trask  for  six  years,  as  she  ex- 
pressed it,  had  "hidden  herself  away."  She  ad- 
mitted that  she  had  alluded  to  that  part  of  her 
life  in  the  progress  of  their  recriminations.  One 
could  see  that  with  her  it  was  an  abiding  source 
of  bitterness.  (I  must  confess  that  I  didn't  won- 
der at  that.)  In  the  end,  they  had  kissed  and 
made  up,  and  Trask  once  again  declaring  that  he 
was  completely  fagged  out,  they  had  separated 
for  the  night. 

Her  account  of  the  murder  and  of  the  things 
that  immediately  preceded  it,  differed  in  no  way 
from  what  I  had  already  read  in  the  papers;  ex- 
cept that  she  added  one  thing,  and  a  most  impor- 
tant thing.  She  had  not  only  heard  her  hus- 
band's voice  at  the  telephone,  but  she  had  also 


THE  INQUEST  55 

distinctly  caught  the  words:  "Is  that  you^ 
May?" 

There  was  no  doubt  that  this  admission  pro- 
duced a  distinct  impression,  not  to  say  a  sensa- 
tion, on  everybody  present.  Who  was  May? 
Was  she  the  same  woman  who  had  called  up 
earlier  on  that  fatal  evening*?  Was  Trask  ex- 
pecting a  call  from  her,  or  did  he  only  recognise 
the  voice?  In  either  case,  had  he  not  lied  to  his 
wife  when  he  declared  that  he  had  no  idea  who 
the  woman,  who  had  so  urgently  desired  to  speak 
to  him  that  she  could  not  wait  until  morning  to 
call  him  up  at  his  office,  was?  One  had  only 
to  look  at  his  widow's  face  to  know  that  she  had 
asked  herself  all  these  questions — and  had  an- 
swered them. 

There  was  little  more  to  her  testimony  except 
to  state  that  she,  herself,  saw  that  the  safe  was 
opened  and  that  the  money  which  Glover  had 
placed  there  was  missing. 

Glover's  testimony  also  closely  followed  the 
lines  of  his  published  interview.  But  he,  too, 
added  one  detail  which  was  interesting  and  served 
only  to  make  the  case  against  Strickland  more 


56  ON  TRIAL 

black,  giving  added  support  to  the  theory  that 
he  had  come  to  the  house  originally  with  the  pur- 
pose of  robbery.  With  that  fact  established, 
there  would  be  no  trouble  in  establishing  the  mo- 
tive of  the  murder. 

When  the  secretary  finally  found  the  card  he 
was  searching  for  in  Strickland's  pocket,  Strick- 
land had  snatched  it  from  his  hand,  and  had 
partly  torn  this  incriminating  piece  of  evidence 
before  Glover  succeeded  in  repossessing  himself 
of  it.  I  had  to  admit  that  that  looked  very  bad 
indeed.  I  could  see  the  effect  that  would  have 
on  a  jury.  It  certainly  was  a  very  damning  piece 
of  evidence.  It  gave  my  own  theory  of  the  case 
a  severe  jolt.  Also,  I  had  waited  to  hear  if  Mrs. 
Trask  had  remembered  to  ask  her  husband  for 
the  new  combination  as  she  had  intended  doing. 
Still,  I  thought  I  knew  the  reason  she  had  for  not 
mentioning  it  if  she  had. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MRS.    STRICKLAND    DISAPPEARS 

DOUBTLESS  the  reader,  if  any  such  there  be,  who 
has  been  good  enough  to  follow  my  halting  nar- 
rative thus  far  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
by  the  end  of  the  inquest  my  interest  in  the  Trask 
murder,  or  rather,  to  speak  more  accurately,  my 
interest  in  the  case  from  the  point  of  view  of 
Strickland,  had  reached  the  point  where  I  had  re- 
solved to  be  present  at  the  time  when  he  should 
be  formally  charged  with  the  crime  and  indicted 
and  offer  my  services  as  assistant  to  whatever 
counsel  he  should  select. 

I  had  little  doubt  that  my  offer  would  be  ac- 
cepted. I  have  said  that  I  had  the  reputation  for 
being  an  eccentric  on  account  of  practising  my 
profession  without  the  expectation  of  a  fee.  But 
as  I  never  in  any  sense  entered  into  competition 
with  those  that  did  so,  I  was  confident  that  I  had 
long  ago  extracted,  so  to  speak,  the  poison  from 
the  barb  of  criticism. 

I  think  that  I  may  in  all  modesty  say  that  it 

57 


58  ON  TRIAL 

was  generally  admitted  that  what  I  may  have 
lacked  in  native  ability  was  balanced  by  my  will- 
ingness to  give  my  whole  time  and  attention  to 
any  case  upon  which  I  was  engaged  without  spar- 
ing myself.  I  don't  think  any  one  ever  accused 
me  of  a  lack  of  industry.  And  after  all,  in  the 
practice  of  law,  as  in  any  other  branch  of  human 
endeavour,  industry  is  a  factor  which  counts. 

Having  gone  over  in  my  mind  the  list  of  crimi- 
nal lawyers  at  the  New  York  bar,  all  of  whom, 
except  perhaps  some  of  the  younger  men,  I  knew 
and  was  known  to  personally,  I  could  think  of 
no  one  who  would  be  apt  to  decline  the  offer  of 
my  personal  services  in  a  subordinate  capacity. 
The  fact  that  Strickland  was  just  beginning  to 
get  once  more  upon  his  feet  financially,  would 
surely  not  debar  him  from  obtaining  the  best 
legal  assistance.  A  man  who  had,  up  to  the  time 
of  the  present  catastrophe,  enjoyed  the  best  of 
reputations,  could  not  fail  to  have  friends  who 
would  stand  behind  him  in  his  hour  of  sore 
need. 

Judge  of  my  astonishment,  therefore,  when  I 
discovered  that  he  had  engaged  no  counsel  what- 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    59 

ever.  But  before  I  come  to  that,  let  me  give  my 
impressions  of  the  man  as  I  first  saw  him. 

He  sat  at  a  small  table  withdrawn  a  few  feet 
from  that  occupied  by  the  reporters.  His  shat- 
tered arm,  bandaged,  and  in  a  sling,  rested  on  the 
table  before  him.  From  time  to  time,  he  eased 
it  by  placing  his  right  hand  under  his  elbow.  He 
must  have  been  suffering  intense  physical  pain.  In 
spite  of  the  strong  restraint  that  he  was  evidently 
putting  on  himself,  occasionally  a  groan  escaped 
him.  But  it  would  have  been  equally  apparent 
to  the  most  careless  observer  that  his  physical 
agony  was  nothing  compared  with  the  mental  tor- 
ture he  was  undergoing.  The  havoc  which  the 
hours  that  had  passed  since  the  night  of  the  mur- 
der had  wrought  was  amazing.  One  did  not  need 
to  have  known  him  before — as  I  had  not — to  real- 
ise that. 

Before  the  shipwreck  of  all  that  gives  a  value 
to  life,  he  must  have  been  a  man  of  unusual 
health  and  vigour.  His  well-knit,  well-nourished 
frame  could  belong  only  to  a  man  of  regular  and 
temperate  habits.  I  guessed  him  to  be  in  the 
early  forties,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  had 


60  ON  TRIAL 

looked  even  younger.  Now,  he  might  have  been 
almost  any  age.  He  sat  huddled  in  his  chair, 
leaning  on  the  table.  From  time  to  time,  he  took 
deep  sobbing  breaths  which  seemed  to  wrack  his 
whole  frame.  During  the  brief  proceedings  in- 
volving the  formality  of  his  arraignment,  he  only 
altered  his  position  once,  and  only  once  did  I  see 
him  fully  open  his  eyes ;  that  was  when  the  officer 
in  charge  of  him  nudged  him  to  remind  him  that 
he  must  stand  up. 

I  have  seen,  in  my  time,  many  men  bowed  with 
misery  and  despair.  But  I  have  never  looked 
upon  a  human  being  so  completely  crushed  with 
misery  as  Robert  Strickland  that  day,  and  for 
many  days  after.  I  sincerely  hope  I  never  may 
again ! 

When,  on  being  reminded,  he  rose  to  his  feet 
to  plead  to  the  indictment,  he  did  an  extraordi- 
nary thing.  At  the  time  I  thought  that  he  could 
not  possibly  realise  what  he  was  doing.  In  a 
broken  voice  he  pleaded  guilty,  and  declared  him- 
self ready  to  suffer  the  consequences.  He  de- 
clared that  he  had  engaged  no  one  to  defend  him, 
and  that  he  didn't  want  to  be  defended.  At  first 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    61 

glance,  it  seemed  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
the  man  had  lost  his  reason,  or,  at  least  had  de- 
cided to  sham  insanity. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  justice  does  not  per- 
mit of  any  man  being  undefended,  nor  of  his 
pleading  guilty.  The  plea  of  "not  guilty"  was 
entered  for  him,  and  His  Honour  did  me  the 
honour  of  appointing  me  counsel  for  his  defence, 
which  is  how  I  came  to  be  finally  connected  with 
the  Strickland  case  in  an  official  capacity. 

I  will  never  forget  my  first  interview  with  my 
unwilling  client  in  his  cell  in  the  Tombs.  It 
was  well  that  I  was  a  seasoned  lawyer,  and  well, 
too,  that  I  have  an  underlying  strata  of  obstinacy 
in  my  character  almost — I  say  "almost"  advisedly 
— equalling  Strickland's  own.  A  younger  man 
would  have  thrown  up  the  case  in  despair.  A  less 
obstinate  man  would  have  abandoned  it  in  dis- 
gust. I  did  neither;  although  I  confess  that  more 
than  once  my  patience  and  my  temper  were  sorely 
tried. 

But  in  the  midst  of  his  own  suffering,  and  in 
the  face  of  his  unconquerable  resolution  to  say  no 
word  that  would  assist  in  his  defence,  he  main- 


62  ON  TRIAL 

tained  the  courtesy  of  a  well-bred  man.  He 
never  forgot  a  certain  deference  to  me  as  an  elder 
man.  He  was  invariably  polite.  He  frequently 
expressed  himself  as  being  grateful  to  me  for  prof- 
fering my  services.  He  spoke  of  the  regret  that 
he  felt  for  the  trouble  he  was  causing  me.  But, 
nevertheless,  he  flatly  refused  to  help  me  in  any 
way.  He  was  guilty.  He  had  no  desire  to  es- 
cape punishment.  The  day  that  he  would  be 
called  upon  to  expiate  his  crime  could  not  come 
too  soon.  He  was  positively  childish  in  his  pro- 
testations that  he  couldn't  see  why  he  should  have 
to  endure  the  formality  of  a  trial.  What  for'? 
He  had  pleaded  guilty.  He  was  guilty.  Why 
could  they  not  sentence  him  to  death  without  all 
this  red  tape?  No  one  who  heard  him  could 
doubt  that  he  was  sincere  in  his  wish. 

I  could  learn  nothing  from  him  that  was  of  the 
slightest  aid.  On  all  points  pertaining  to  the 
events  of  the  night  on  which  he  had  been  taken 
in  the  Trask  house,  he  maintained  an  obstinate, 
unbreakable  silence.  The  effect  of  this  extraordi- 
nary conduct,  while  it  did  not  alter  my  determi- 
nation to  defend  him  as  best  I  might,  was  to 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    63 

convince  me  that  both  McLean  and  myself  had 
been  in  error  in  one  matter  at  least.  There  had 
been  another  man  present.  Strickland  must  be 
shielding  some  one.  Who  else  could  he  be  shield- 
ing? And  of  what  nature  was  the  tie  that  bound 
these  two  men  together  that  one  of  them  should 
be  willing  to  go  to  death — and  a  disgraceful  death 
— to  shield  the  other? 

Finding  that  threats,  entreaties,  and  logic  were 
alike  unavailing — I  had,  of  course,  not  neglected 
to  appeal  to  him  on  behalf  of  his  wife  and  child; 
and,  while  he  showed  himself  more  nearly  vul- 
nerable on  being  attacked  on  that  side  than  on 
any  other — I  decided  to  leave  him  alone  for  the 
time  being.  A  few  hours'  reflection  in  the  quiet 
of  my  own  house,  and — yes,  I  admit  it — the  pros- 
pect of  a  debate  over  the  whole  matter  with 
McLean,  could  not  fail  to  inspire  me  with  fresh 
courage  and  perhaps  a  supply  of  fresh  ideas.  I 
do  not  in  the  least  mind  confessing  that  I  felt  the 
need  of  both. 

I  left  my  recalcitrant  client  lying  on  the  cot  in 
his  cell  and  departed  in  a  more  perturbed  frame 
of  mind  than  I  liked  to  think  possible.  I  was 


64  ON  TRIAL 

able  to  glean  only  one  faint  bit  of  consolation 
from  the  whole  situation.  McLean  would  be  bit- 
terly disappointed  to  find  that  he — I  did  not  say 
we — was  wrong  in  regarding  the  so-called  accom- 
plice as  a  mythical  personage.  He  must  have 
existed.  There  was  no  other  way  to  explain 
Strickland's  attitude.  And  the  accomplice  once 
admitted,  what  became  of  the  theory  that  it  was 
Mrs.  Trask  who  had  robbed  the  safe? 

It  was  palpably  absurd  to  suppose  that  Strick- 
land had  brought  the  other  man  with  him  to  help 
him  attack  an  unarmed  man.  Could  it  be  that 
the  safe  had  contained  anything  else — say  com- 
promising or  incriminating  letters — that  he  had 
wanted?  I  still  refused  to  entertain  the  idea 
that  he  was  a  common,  vulgar  thief,  in  the  sense 
that  he  had  come  for  the  money. 

I  determined  to  dismiss  the  whole  matter  from 
my  mind,  at  least  until  I  reached  home.  In- 
spired by  the  example  of  a  young  man  who  seemed 
to  be  reading  his  paper  with  absorbed  interest 
while  waiting  on  the  subway  platform  for  his 
train,  I  also  bought  the  same  paper.  A  glance 
over  his  shoulder  told  me  that  he  was  deeply  en- 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    65 

grossed  in  what  I  believe  is  called  the  "Sporting 
Page."  I  devoted  myself  to  the  same  page  until 
I  arrived  at  my  station.  If  it  had  been  printed  in 
a  foreign  language,  I  would  have  understood  just 
about  as  much  of  it.  As  a  complete  rest  to  the 
mind,  I  found  it  had  many  things  to  recommend 
it.  And  yet  I  presume  that  there  are  people  who 
read  it  with  understanding  and  satisfaction! 

Once  home,  I  went  at  once  to  my  room  to  pre- 
pare for  dinner.  I  had  planned  to  surprise  Mc- 
Lean with  the  news  that  I  had  been  appointed 
Strickland's  counsel.  But  I  found  that  he  was 
already  acquainted  with  the  fact  which  was  in 
all  the  evening  papers.  It  certainly  was  not  on 
the  "Sporting  Page."  To  that  I  could  swear! 

I  had  had  ample  time  to  go  carefully  over  my 
unsatisfactory  interview  with  my  client  before 
McLean  was  at  leisure  to  come  to  me  in  my  study 
as  I  had  told  him  to  do.  Rather  to  my  surprise 
he  accepted  my  altered  view  on  the  subject  of  the 
accomplice.  But  he  stubbornly  refused  to  admit 
that  such  an  admission  was  tantamount  to  ex- 
onerating Mrs.  Trask  from  the  charge  of  having 
taken  the  money  herself.  He  was  honest  enough 


66  ON  TRIAL 

to  admit  that  for  the  moment  he  was  completely 
puzzled. 

Nor  could  he  fathom  the  reason  why  Strick- 
land should  go  such  lengths  to  screen  the  other 
man.  "There's  only  one  person  in  the  world  who 
can  explain  that,"  he  said. 

"The  other  man,  I  suppose,"  I  jeered. 

"Not  at  all;  Mrs.  Strickland." 

For  a  long  moment  I  stared  at  him. 

"Get  my  hat  and  stick,  will  you"?  I'll  go  at 
once.  Strickland's  flat  was  somewhere  in  the  fif- 
ties, wasn't  it?" 

"Fifty-eighth  Street.  The  addres's  was  in  one 
of  the  papers.  I'll  look  up  the  number." 

He  left  the  room  to  return  presently  with  the 
address  written  on  a  card. 

"I'm  obliged  to  you,"  I  said.  And  he  knew 
that  I  didn't  mean  for  the  address  alone. 

The  house  was  an  easy  one  to  find.  To  judge 
from  its  appearance  it  was  an  old  one,  but  the 
windows  were  all  handsomely  curtained,  and  it 
suggested,  somehow,  that  the  rooms  would  all  be 
large  and  spacious. 

"Could  you  tell  me  if  Mrs.  Robert  Strickland 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    67 

is  home?"  I  asked  of  a  respectable  looking  col- 
oured boy  who  stood  in  the  doorway. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  he  seemed  slightly 
embarrassed. 

"If  you'll  wait  a  minute,  sir,  I'll  ask  Bertha. 
She  was  Mrs.  Strickland's  maid.  She's  down  in 
the  jani tress'  flat  now." 

I  was  puzzled  by  his  manner.  And  why 
"was"?  If  Bertha  were  no  longer  Mrs.  Strick- 
land's maid,  what  would  she  know  about  her 
movements'?  In  a  moment  he  returned  with  a 
good-looking  girl  whom  I  judged  to  be  a  German. 

"That's  the  gentleman  that  was  asking,"  he 
said  by  way  of  introduction,  and  politely  with- 
drew some  distance  down  the  hall,  although  I 
could  see  that  he  was  burning  with  curiosity  as  to 
my  errand. 

"You  wanted  to  see  Mrs.  Strickland?"  en- 
quired Bertha  with  a  troubled  air. 

"Yes.  Can  you  tell  me  if  she  is  at  home,  and 
if  she  can  see  me?  It's  very  important." 

"Would  you  give  me  your  name,  sir?" 

"Certainly.  I  am  Mr.  Arbuckle ;  Mr.  Malcolm 
Arbuckle." 


68  ON  TRIAL 

Bertha's  face  lightened  in  a  most  flattering 
manner. 

"Oh,  sir!  Then  you're  the  gentleman  who  is 
going  to  get  the  master  out  of  his  trouble !"  she 
said  enthusiastically.  Evidently  all  the  world 
knew  of  the  new  responsibility  I  had  assumed — 
except  those  who  confined  themselves  to  the 
"Sporting  Page"! 

"Yes,  I  am  Mr.  Strickland's  lawyer." 

"And  did  he  send  you  over  to  see  Mrs.  Strick- 
land"?" she  asked,  the  troubled  look  returning. 

I  was  beginning  to  be  annoyed. 

"No,  he  did  not.  But  is  that  any  reason  for 
her  not  seeing  me4?  She  can  give  me  a  great  deal 
of  information  that  I  will  need  in  my  defence  of 
Mr.  Strickland." 

To  my  surprise,  the  girl  burst  into  tears. 

"Oh,  sir,"  she  sobbed.  "I  only  wish  I  could 
tell  you  how  to  see  her.  She's  gone !" 

"Gone!"  I  echoed     "What  do  you  mean?" 

"Gone.  Left  the  house.  She  even  left  Miss 
Doris  without  a  word.  The  poor  little  thing 
stayed  alone  with  me  here  for  three  days,  and 
then  I  took  her  up  to  her  aunt's." 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    69 

"Doris?     Is  that  Mr.  Strickland's  little  girl?" 

"Yes,  sir."  She  had  regained  some  of  her  com- 
posure by  now,  and  was  drying  her  eyes  on  a  large 
handkerchief. 

"But  when  did  Mrs.  Strickland  leave,  and 
where  is  she  now?" 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  sir.  I  mean  I  wish 
I  could  tell  you  where  she  was.  None  of  us 
know.  Her  own  sister  doesn't  know.  No  one 
has  seen  her  since  that  night." 

"What  night?"  I  asked  in  growing  excitement. 

"The  night— the  night  that  Mr.  Trask— died." 

I  liked  the  way  that  the  faithful  creature  re- 
fused to  use  the  word  that  was  in  everybody's 
mouth,  the  word  "murdered."  Evidently  she  was 
devoted  to  both  her  master  and  mistress. 

"Bertha,"  I  said,  taking  her  kindly  by  the  arm, 
"this  is  most  important.  Just  when  did  Mrs. 
Strickland  leave  the  house,  and  how?  Did  she 
go  alone?" 

"She  must  have  gone  soon  after  Mr.  Strickland 
did,  and  I'm  sure  she  went  alone.  There  was  no 
one  here  for  her  to  have  gone  with.  I  had  gone 
to  bed,  and  I  wouldn't  have  known  anything 


70  ON  TRIAL 

about  her  going  if  it  hadn't  been  that  Miss  Doris 
was  so  frightened  and  came  crying  to  my  room. 
The  poor  child  had,  of  course,  gone  to  bed  long 
before.  But  something  had  awakened  and  fright- 
ened her.  She  told  me  that  her  mother  had  been 
crying  and  saying  terrible  things.  And  that  she 
had  been  telephoning  to  some  one,  and  that  some- 
thing she  had  heard  over  the  telephone  had  made 
her  mother  scream.  And  that  she  had  taken  her 
in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  so  hard  that  it  hurt 
her.  And  had  said  'Good-bye,'  and  had  gone  run- 
ning out  of  the  door.  And  that  her  father  wasn't 
in  his  room  so  that  he  must  have  gone,  too." 

"Bertha,"  I  asked,  "do  you  happen  to  know 
what  Mrs.  Strickland's  name  was*?  I  mean,  do 
you  know  what  Mr.  Strickland  called  her?" 

"Yes,  sir.     He  always  called  her  'May.'  " 

I  drew  a  long  breath,  and  waited  a  minute. 

"And  you  say  that  you  took  Miss  Doris  up  to 
her  aunt's?  Can  you  give  me  the  address,  and 
the  aunt's  name?" 

"Yes,  sir.  She's  a  Mrs.  Stanwood,  and  she's  a 
widow." 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    7* 

I  wrote  the  name  down  with  the  address. 

"And  now,  Bertha,  one  thing  more.  How 
could  I  reach  you  if  I  wanted  to  see  you  again  to 
ask  you  any  more  questions'?  Or" — seeing  that 
she  looked  troubled — "if  I  should  have  any  news 
of  Mrs.  Strickland?' 

"Oh,  sir,  do  you  think  you  will?  Sometimes, 
I'm  afraid" — here  she  looked  as  if  she  were  about 
to  cry  again — "that  no  one  will  ever  see  her 
again." 

"Nonsense!"  I  said,  with  a  confidence  that  I 
was  far  from  feeling.  "But  how  can  I  let  you 
know  if  I  do  have  some  news?" 

"There's  no  place  better  than  here,  sir.  Of 
course,  I'll  have  to  look  out  for  another  place. 
The  rent's  paid  on  Mr.  Strickland's  flat  until  the 
fifteenth  of  the  month.  But  I  just  can't  bear  to 
stay  here  nights.  But  I  am  here  all  day  in  case 
she  should  come  back.  Oh,  thank  you,  sir !" 

I  slipped  something  into  the  devoted  creature's 
hand. 

"Then  this  address  will  find  you  until  after  the 
fifteenth?" 


72  ON  TRIAL 

"Yes,  sir,  and  even  after  that.  The  jamtress 
will  keep  any  letters  that  come  for  me." 

"Very  well.     Good  night." 

"Good  night,  sir,  and  thank  you." 

I  was  surprised  to  find  myself  at  my  own  door. 
I  had  been  so  taken  up  with  my  thoughts  on  the 
way  home  that  I  seemed  to  have  covered  the  dis- 
tance in  no  time. 

I  imparted  my  great  news  to  McLean. 

"McLean,  it  seems  that  Mrs.  Strickland's 
Christian  name  is  May." 

The  information  left  him  cold.  And  yet  he 
had  heard  that  name  at  the  inquest. 

"And  what  did  she  have  to  say  about  the  other 
man?  Have  you  found  out  the  reason  why 
Strickland's  keeping  so  dark  about  him?" 

"She  didn't  say  anything  about  him,  for  the 
best  of  reasons.  She  has  disappeared." 

McLean  made  a  sound  that  strongly  resembled 
a  whistle.  "Disappeared?  When?"  he  asked. 

"The  night  of  the  murder,  of  course.  Good 
night  to  you."  And  I  started  up  the  stairs  to  bed. 

"And  her  name  is  May!"  I  heard  him  exclaim 


MRS  STRICKLAND  DISAPPEARS    73 

softly  to  himself,  as  he  made  his  way  to  his  own 
part  of  the  house. 

I  felt  convinced  that  he  considered  me  ungrate- 
ful. I  had  a  guilty  feeling  that  he  was  justified. 
I  needn't  have  said  "of  course" ! 


CHAPTER  V 

I    BUY    A    GIFT    FOR    DORIS 

WHILE  I  was  dressing  the  next  morning,  I  was 
planning  my  visit  to  Mrs.  Stanwood  and  specu- 
lating as  to  how  I  was  to  set  about  making  friends 
with  Doris.  I  am  fond  of  children — at  least  I 
think  I  would  be,  if  I  were  more  accustomed  to 
them.  But  I  admit  that  I  always  am  terribly 
embarrassed  to  know  how  one  begins  with  them, 
so  to  speak.  I  am  handicapped  by  having  prac- 
tically no  childish  recollections  of  my  own  to 
draw  upon.  I  was,  I  realise  now  that  it  is  too 
late,  a  singularly  solitary  child  myself.  I  never 
had  any  playmates  of  my  own.  Still,  the  ice  once 
broken,  I  rather  flatter  myself  that  I  have  "a  way" 
with  little  people.  I  was  great  friends  at  one 
time  with  the  small  son  of  one  of  my  colleagues. 
Bless  me,  how  time  flies !  Tom  is  grown  up  and 
married,  and  has  children  of  his  own  now.  But 
somehow  I  fancied  that  I  would  find  it  harder 
to  get  to  know  a  little  girl. 

By  the  time  I  was  ready  for  breakfast,  I  had 

74 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         75 

decided  on  the  first  step.  I  must  take  the  child 
some  little  gift.  Children  always  liked  presents. 
Probably  girls  liked  them  even  more  than  boys. 
The  next  question  was  what  sort  of  thing  to  take. 
I  turned  to  McLean. 

"McLean,  do  you — do  you  know  any  chil- 
dren?" 

"Know  any  children?"  repeated  McLean  stu- 
pidly. 

"That's  what  I  asked."  And  as  he  still  stood 
looking  at  me,  I  added,  with  a  touch  of  irrita- 
tion, 

"  Good  heavens,  man !  There  must  be  some 
children  in  this  neighbourhood !" 

"There  are,"  said  McLean  with  emphasis,  "and 
too  many  of  them.  If  I  don't  know  them,  I 
promise  you  they  know  me.9' 

I  recalled  that  McLean  had  complained  at  the 
police  station  about  some  boys  who  had  broken  a 
window  in  his  basement  while  playing  ball,  and 
decided  to  try  another  tack. 

"Haven't  you  any  nephews,  or  nieces,  or  small 
cousins,  or  anything?" 

"I  have  two  nieces,"  he  admitted  grudgingly. 


76  ON  TRIAL 

I  felt  greatly  cheered.  "And  how  old  are 
they?' 

"One  of  them  is  nearly  fifty.  She  was  my  old- 
est brother's  child.  There  was  twelve  of  us.  I 
was  the  tenth." 

"And  how  old  is  the  other  one?"  I  asked  with 
diminishing  hope. 

"Two  weeks,  sir." 

This,  evidently,  was  a  matter  in  which  McLean 
could  be  of  no  assistance. 

Before  starting  for  84th  Street,  where  Mrs. 
Stanwood  lived,  I  went  down  town  to  one  of  the 
most  reliable  toy  shops.  No  doubt  some  of  the 
clerks  would  be  able  to  advise  me.  It  was  stupid 
not  to  have  thought  of  that  before.  I  selected  a 
pleasant- faced  man  who  looked  old  enough  to  be 
sensible. 

"I — I  am  looking  for  a  small  present  for  a 
child,  a  girl.  I  thought  perhaps  you  could  help 
me  in  making  a  selection." 

But  his  first  question  floored  me.  "Certainly, 
sir.  How  old  is  she?' 

"I  don't  exactly  know.  The  ordinary  age,  I 
should  say." 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         77 

His  look  suggested  that  I  had  said  something 
foolish. 

"I  mean  to  say  that  I  haven't  any  idea.  But 
I  don't  think  she  can  be  over  three  or  four." 

Why  I  had  decided  on  that  age  I  would  have 
been  rather  put  to  it  to  explain.  He  assured  me 
that  there  were  a  number  of  things  to  choose  from. 
I  finally  selected  a  picture  book,  filled  with  pic- 
tures of  domestic  animals  and  with  what  I  took 
to  be  explanatory  notes  in  type  so  large  that  I 
could  read  it  at  arm's  length  without  my  glasses. 
To  this  I  added,  entirely  on  the  advice  of  the 
clerk,  a  large  tin  horn.  I  mildly  suggested  that  I 
thought  the  latter  selection  more  appropriate  for 
a  small  boy.  But  he  assured  me  that  small  girls 
were  even  more  fond  of  making  noise  than  small 
boys.  I  wanted  to  ask  him  how  he  knew.  But 
I  didn't. 

With  these  purchases,  neatly  done  up  in  two 
separate  packages,  I  started  upon  my  important 
errand.  The  hall  attendant  having  telephoned 
up  a  garbled  paraphrase  of  my  name,  I  presently 
found  myself  ushered  into  a  pleasant  drawing- 
room,  by  a  respectable-looking,  elderly  maid  to 


78  ON  TRIAL 

whom  I  presented  my  card.  It  was  a  comfort  to 
know  that  she  could  not  change  that.  A  moment 
later,  Mrs.  Stanwood  was  with  me. 

She  had  been  a  pretty  woman  once,  I  could  see 
that.  I  also  decided  that  she  was  probably  much 
younger  than  she  looked.  She  was  evidently  in 
poor  health,  as  she  walked  with  the  feeble  step 
of  an  old  woman.  Her  eyes  had  that  washed  out 
look  of  a  woman  who  has  wept  too  much.  Just 
now,  however,  I  would  have  said  that  she  was 
suffering  more  from  fright  than  grief.  She  held 
out  her  hand  to  me  without  a  word. 

"Mrs.  Stanwood — "  I  began. 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  saw  it  in  the  paper.  You 
are  Mr.  Strickland's  lawyer." 

"Then  you  know  why  I  have  come." 

She  sank  into  the  nearest  chair,  and  began  to 
lock  and  unlock  her  hands  nervously. 

"I  can  be  of  no  help  to  you,  none  at  all.  I 
would  do  anything  I  could  if  I  thought  it  could 
possibly  help  my — Mr.  Strickland.  But  there  is 
nothing  I  could  say  that  would  not  make  matters 
worse.  I  suppose  he  has  told  you — " 

"He   has    told   me    nothing,"    I    interrupted. 


<§)     White,  New  York. 

"My  daddy  brought  him  to  me  from  Cleveland  the  night 
he  came  home" 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         79 

"Not  a  word  of  any  kind  can  I  get  out  of  him. 
He  insists  that  he  is  guilty  and  that  is  all  there 


is  to  it." 


For  a  moment  her  face  lost  its  look  of  deadly 
apprehension.  "That  is  like  Robert,  that  is  like 
Robert!"  she  repeated.  "Oh,  I'm  so  glad.  It  is 
like  him  to  think  of  Doris.  Not  that  the  child's 
life  is  not  ruined  as  it  is!  I  can  tell  you  noth- 
ing," she  said  again. 

"But  I  wasn't  expecting  you  to  tell  me  any- 
thing that  would  help  me  in  my  defence  of  Mr. 
Strickland — that  is,  not  directly.  I  was  only 
hoping  that  through  you  I  might  be  able  to  find 
Mrs.  Strickland." 

For  a  moment  she  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
When  she  looked  up,  her  face  was  still  wet  with 
tears. 

"I  know  nothing  about  her.  I  didn't  even 
know  that  she  had  disappeared  until  Bertha  came 
up  here  bringing  Doris.  Bertha  thinks  that  she 
is — is  dead.  But  I  have  still  one  hope,  not  much 
of  one,  I  admit.  Still,  if  she  had  no  money,  it 
would  take  a  long  time  to  get  there,"  she  said 
more  to  herself  than  to  me. 


8o  ON  TRIAL 

"How  do  you  know  she  had  no  money?" 

"Because  Bertha  brought  me  her  purse  which 
she  found  lying  on  the  table.  It  was  the  one  she 
usually  carried  when  she  was  shopping.  It  had 
thirty  dollars  in  it,  and  some  loose  change.  She 
never  would  have  kept  her  money  in  two  purses; 
that  is,  no  amount  to  speak  of.  She  might  have 
had  a  little  change  in  some  other  one.  But  she 
left  without  ever  thinking  of  the  money,  I  am 
sure." 

"And  you  still  think  that  she  may  have  gone 
somewhere  where  she  is  known?" 

"If  I  didn't  think  so,  I  should  go  mad!"  she 
exclaimed,  almost  violently.  Then,  recovering 
herself  with  a  strong  effort,  she  went  on.  "You 
see  I  was  only  just  beginning  to  recover  from  a 
terrible  illness,  an  illness  of  nearly  a  year.  I 
have  only  been  out  of  bed  a  little  over  a  month. 
When  I  read  this  fearful  thing  in  the  paper,  I 
was  completely  prostrated.  I  was  only  half  con- 
scious for  several  days.  And  then  Bertha  came 
with  more  terrible  news." 

"Are  you  willing  to  tell  me  where  you  think 
Mrs.  Strickland  may  have  gone?" 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         81 

She  shook  her  head.  "Not  now.  It  wouldn't 
do  any  good.  I  will  only  say  that  it  is  a  place 
in  the  country.  Years  ago,  after  May  had  had  a 
great  shock,  she  was  ill  there  for  a  long,  long  time. 
I  have  a  feeling  that  another  shock,  which  would 
remind  her  so  of  the  first  one,  would  have  the 
effect  of  sending  her  back  there  again.  Indeed, 
once  before,  when  she  was  ill  again,  just  before 
Doris  was  born,  she  disappeared.  It  was  there 
we  found  her.  But  that  time  she  had  taken  some 
money  with  her.  Now — it  is  such  a  long  way! 
If  only  she  has  the  strength  to  get  there,  it  will 
be  all  right.  The  people  know  her." 

"Mrs.  Stan  wood,  why  are  you  keeping  so  much 
back  from  me?" 

"Because,  you  must  believe  me,  it  would  only 
make  matters  worse  if  I  told  you." 

"Will  you  answer  me  this  question:  Do  you 
think  that  Robert  Strickland  went  to  Trask's 
house  to  get  that  money?" 

"Never!"  Her  face  flushed  with  indigna- 
tion. 

"Then  his  motive  for  killing  Gerald  Trask  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that  ten  thousand  dollars?" 


82  ON  TRIAL 

"Nothing  whatever." 

"Where  is  Doris?     May  I  see  her?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  "I  don't  see  what 
possible  good  it  can  do,"  she  said.  "But  there  is 
no  reason  you  shouldn't.  Of  course,  you  under- 
stand that  she  only  knows  that  her  father  and 
mother  have  gone  away?  She  is  a  curious  child, 
far  older  than  her  years.  She  is  more  like  her 
father  than  her  mother.  She  has  her  father's 
taste  for  mathematics.  If  she  had  been  a  boy,  I 
am  sure  she  would  have  been  interested  in  engi- 
neering as  he  is." 

I  thought  with  alarm  of  the  picture  book  with 
its  large  print,  and  of  the  horn  lying  on  the  floor 
beside  me.  Mrs.  Stanwood  rose  and  touched  the 
electric  button. 

"Tell  Miss  Doris  I  would  like  to  see  her,"  she 
said  to  the  respectable-looking  maid. 

"One  question  before  the  child  comes,"  I  said. 
"Did  you  read  the  account  of  the  inquest?" 

Again  she  clasped  and  unclasped  her  hands. 
Her  lips  formed  the  word  "No,"  although  no 
sound  came  from  them. 

"Then  you  didn't  know  that  Mrs.  Trask  testi- 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         83 

fied  that  the  last  thing  she  heard  her  husband  say 
before  he  recognised  Mr.  Strickland,  was  while  he 
was  at  the  telephone,  and  that  the  words  were: 
'Is  that  you,  May'?" 

She  gave  a  sort  of  stifled  scream.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  thought  that  she  was  going  to  faint.  Her 
face,  pale  as  it  was,  grew  paler,  with  a  sort  of 
grey  pallor.  I  sprang  from  my  chair,  and  went 
over  toward  her.  But  she  waved  me  away.  Her 
will  power  was  nothing  short  of  astonishing.  She 
gave  a  long  shuddering  breath.  "I  told  you  I 
had  nothing  to  say." 

But  she  had  answered  me,  nevertheless. 

A  child's  step  came  running  down  the  hall.  It 
was  Doris.  When  I  saw  her,  I  leaned  down  and 
shoved  my  two  parcels  under  the  chair  in  which 
I  was  sitting.  It  was  covered  with  light  coloured 
material,  as  was  all  the  upholstered  furniture,  giv- 
ing the  room  a  bright,  summer-like  air.  I  had 
noticed  that  the  chair  in  which  I  was  sitting  had 
a  deep  ruffly  sort  of  thing  at  the  bottom.  Why 
I  did  such  a  foolish  thing,  I  don't  know.  I  was 
weak  enough  to  act  on  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment. The  moment  I  laid  eyes  on  her,  I  could 


84  ON  TRIAL 

have  blushed  when  I  thought  of  that  wretched 
tin  horn. 

Not  that  Doris  was  anything  but  a  child,  but, 
as  her  aunt  had  said,  she  looked  older  than  her 
years.  And  besides,  as  I  learned  later,  she  was 
nearly  nine  years  old.  And  I  had  told  the  clerk 
in  the  toy  store  that  she  couldn't  be  more  than 
four!  She  was  uncommonly  tall  for  her  age. 
Whether  it  was  because  she  was  not  quite  happy 
in  her  strange  surroundings  and  merely  missed 
her  parents,  or  whether  it  was  that  she  really  un- 
derstood far  more  than  her  aunt  was  disposed  to 
think,  of  the  occurrences  of  the  night  when  she 
had  last  seen  them,  her  face  and  manner  had  a 
gravity  and  seriousness  sad  to  see  in  so  young  a 
child. 

She  had  evidently  been  carefully  brought  up, 
for,  when  her  aunt  said:  "Doris,  I  want  you  to 
go  over  and  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Arbuckle.  He 
is  a  friend  of  your  father's,"  she  came  over  to  me, 
and  making  me  the  prettiest  courtesy  imaginable, 
put  her  little  hand  in  mine.  Under  one  arm  she 
carried  a  quaint  little  doll,  dressed  like  a  little 
German  boy. 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         85 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  my  daddy's?"  she  asked 
eagerly.  "Have  you  seen  him  since  the  night" — 
for  a  moment  her  lip  quivered,  and  the  tears 
brimmed  into  her  dark  eyes — "since  the  night  he 
and  my  mamma  went  away?  And  do  you 
know  when  he  is  coming  to  take  me  back 
home?" 

"You  see,  Mr.  Arbuckle,  she  doesn't  like  to 
stay  with  her  aunt  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Stan  wood, 
with  an  attempt  to  divert  Doris'  thoughts. 

"Oh,  no,  Aunt  Helen,  I  do  like  to  stay  with 
you,"  said  the  child,  running  over  to  her  aunt's 
side.  "Only,"  she  added  frankly,  "I  like  to  be 
in  my  own  home  with  my  mamma  and  daddy 
best.  I  love  to  come  up  and  spend  the  day  here, 
as  I  often  do.  But  I  do  want  to  go  home  again ! 
Do  you  know  when  my  daddy  is  coming  for  me?" 
she  repeated. 

"I  can't  quite  tell  you  that,"  I  said.  "But  I 
know  he'll  come  as  soon  as  he  can.  Your  father 
hurt  his  arm  quite  badly  the  other  day.  But  I 
am  going  to  help  him  as  much  as  I  can.  I  came 
to  see  you  because  maybe  you  can  help  me  to 
help  him." 


86  ON  TRIAL 

"Oh,  can  I*?"  she  cried  delightedly.  And  then 
she  added:  "Are  you  a  doctor4?" 

"No,"  I  said,  "I'm  not  a  doctor.  But  I  think 
I  can  help  him  in  another  way.  But  there  are 
some  things  I  want  to  ask  you  about.  Will  you 
try  to  answer  my  questions  like  a  good  little 
girl?' 

"Oh,  yes,  sir." 

Whether  Mrs.  Stanwood  thought  that  I  might 
make  more  progress  if  I  had  the  child  alone  to 
myself,  or  whether  she  did  not  feel  equal  to  re- 
maining to  hear  the  questions  she  feared  I  might 
ask,  I  do  not  know.  At  all  events  she  rose  to 
leave  the  room. 

"If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  think  I  must  go  and 
lie  down  again,"  she  said.  "But  first  I  would  like 
to  say  just  a  word  to  you.  Doris,  will  you  run 
out  and  ask  Margaret  to  get  my  broth  ready?" 

The  child  ran  away,  and  Mrs.  Stanwood  turned 
to  me. 

"What  do  you  expect  to  get  by  questioning 
Doris?"  she  asked. 

"I  hardly  know.  But  I  am  hoping  that  she 
can  tell  me  something  of  the  occurrences  at  her 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         87 

home  the  night  Trask  was  shot.  He  went  there, 
you  know,  on  his  way  home  from  the  station." 

"To  see  Robert,"  she  said  hastily. 

"Certainly.  To  see  him.  Strickland  had  tel- 
egraphed for  him  to  come." 

"It  was  the  maddest  thing  to  do.  I  don't  un- 
derstand it." 

"Why,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  perfectly  simple." 

"That  is  because  you  don't  understand." 

"I  know.  But  I  want  to.  Mrs.  Stanwood, 
don't  you  want  to  give  Robert  Strickland  a  chance 
for  his  life?" 

"What  chance  has  he?  Besides,  I  have  al- 
ready told  you  that  anything  that  I  might  say 
would  do  him  far  more  harm  than  good." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?" 

"Positive." 

"Do  you  object  to  my  questioning  Doris?" 

"No.  Only  I  do  not  believe  it  can  do  any 
possible  good.  Have  you  told  her  father  that 
you  were  coming?" 

"No,  I  haven't.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  hadn't 
thought  of  the  child  until  after  I  left  him  and 
found  that  Mrs.  Strickland  was  gone." 


88  ON  TRIAL 

"But  you  had  told  him  that  you  were  going 
to  see  his  wife?" 

"No.  But,  remember,  it  is  a  matter  of  life 
and  death.  Strickland  is  evidently  trying  to 
shield  some  one — the  other  man  perhaps.  As  he 
will  not  open  his  lips,  some  one  else  must." 

"Then  you  place  life  above  everything? 
Above  honour,  even?" 

"I  cannot  connect  Strickland  with  anything 
that  is  dishonourable." 

"You  are  right,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand.  "Whatever  dishonour  is  back  of  all  this 
is  not  his.  But  I  warn  you  that  he  will  suffer 
worse  things  than  death.  I  do  not  understand  it 
all  myself.  There  is  much  that  seems  to  me  in- 
credible. If  only  May  had  not  vanished  as  she 
has.  One  word  with  her,  and  I  would  know  what 
I  ought  to  do.  And  now  I  will  send  Doris  to 
you  again.  I  no  longer  object  to  your  asking  her 
what  you  will." 

With  that,  she  left  me  alone. 

"Come,  Doris,"  I  said,  as  the  child  came  slowly 
back  into  the  room,  "won't  you  come  over  and  sit 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         89 

here  by  me  on  the  sofa?     Then  we  can  have  a 
good  long  talk  and  be  quite  comfortable." 

"What  an  odd  looking  dolly,"  I  began.  "You 
seem  to  be  very  fond  of  him." 

"I  like  him  better  than  all  my  other  dolls. 
He's  German,  and  his  name  is  Hermann.  My 
daddy  brought  him  to  me  from  Cleveland  the 
night  he  came  home.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Ar- 
buckle,  when  we  are  going  there*?  You  knew  we 
were  all  going  there  to  live.  My  daddy  has  got 
a  house  there.  A  nice  white  house  with  a  garden 
and  lots  of  flowers,  and,  oh,  yes,  a  dog!" 

"Yes,  I  knew  that  you  were  going.  But  I 
didn't  know  about  the  house.  Who  told  you 
about  that?" 

"Daddy  did;  the  night  he  came  home." 

"That's  what  I  want  to  hear  about;  all  about 
the  night  he  came  home.  Did  he  come  after  your 
bedtime?" 

"He  came  after  my  regular  bedtime.  But 
Mamma  let  me  sit  up  later  because  I  hadn't  seen 
my  daddy  for  ever  so  long.  And  then  I'd  been 
a  good  girl  and  passed  all  my  examinations  at 


90  ON  TRIAL 

school.  I  was  promoted.  I'm  in  the  Grammar 
school  now." 

"Good  gracious,  you  don't  say  so!  Why,  you 
must  know  lots  about  all  sorts  of  things!" 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't,"  admitted  Doris  re- 
luctantly. "You  see,  I'm  so  much  better  at 
arithmetic  than  at  anything  else.  I  just  can't 
forget  numbers,  and  I  just  can't  remember  lots  of 
other  things  which  the  teacher  says  are  just  as 
important." 

"So  you  remember  numbers,  do  you?  Do  you 
remember  dates,  too?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  dates.  But  I  remember 
other  sorts  of  numbers  better.  My  daddy  says  I 
know  all  of  his  telephone  numbers  better  than  he 
does.  He  never  has  to  look  in  the  book  except 
for  new  ones  when  I'm  'round." 

"That  must  be  a  great  help  to  him.  But,  now, 
tell  me  about  the  night  he  came  home.  What 
were  you  doing  while  you  were  waiting  for  him 
to  come  from  the  station?" 

"Oh,  I  did  lots  of  things.  I  played  'round  a 
while;  and  then  I  practised  some  scales  on  the 
piano  until  I  remembered  that  Mamma  was  lying 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         91 

down  resting;  and  then  I  played  a  while  with  my 
dolls;  and,  oh,  yes" — she  gave  a  merry,  childish 
laugh — "I  had  all  of  my  dolls — I've  got  lots  of 
them — playing  tea-party  round  the  corner  back 
of  the  lounge.  And  when  Mamma  came  in  to 
telephone  to  4000  Jersey  City,  about  the  purse 
that  she  had  lost  at  Long  Branch — " 

"A  purse  she  had  lost  at  Long  Branch?" 

I  could  have  bitten  my  tongue  out.  Doris 
turned  to  me  with  a  sort  of  troubled  look. 

"Go  on,  dear  child.  I  didn't  mean  to  inter- 
rupt you." 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  tell  you  or 
not.  I  promised  Mamma  that  I  wouldn't  tell 
Daddy  for  fear  it  might  worry  him.  But  then 
he  knew  all  about  it  afterwards  when  the  man 
from  Long  Branch  brought  it  back." 

"But  what  were  you  going  to  say  about  when 
your  mamma  came  in  to  telephone  and  you  were 
playing  there  with  your  dollies'?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  Again  Doris  was  overcome  with 
mirth.  "I  frightened  her.  You  see,  she  didn't 
know  I  was  there.  And  after  she  had  finished 
telephoning,  and  I  came  up  to  ask  her  if  it  was 


92  ,     ON  TRIAL 

her  nice,  soft,  little  black  purse  she  had  lost,  she 
screamed  and  said:  'Doris!  Where  did  you 
come  from'?'  And  then  she  told  me  all  about 
lending  her  purse  to  a  friend  who  hadn't  any 
money.  My  mamma's  purse  had  lots  of  money. 
She  told  the  man  at  the  telephone  that  it  had 
about  forty  dollars  in  it.  And  some  addresses 
written  on  cards  that  she  didn't  want  to  lose." 

"And  a  friend  of  hers  had  lost  it  at  Long  ' 
Branch?" 

"Well,  I  don't  just  understand  about  that. 
She  told  the  man  at  the  telephone  that  she  had  lost 
it  at  Long  Branch,  and  then  she  told  me  that  it 
was  a  friend  who  had  lost  it.  And  when  I  asked 
her  if  it  wasn't  fibbing  to  tell  the  man  that  she 
had  lost  it  when  it  was  her  friend  who  had,  she 
said  she'd  explain  that  to  me  some  other  time. 
And  besides  she  had  been  shopping  all  that  day 
to  get  ready  to  go  to  Cleveland.  That's  why  she 
sent  me  up  to  spend  the  day  here  with  Aunt 
Helen.  But  later  on,  after  I  had  gone  to  bed  in 
the  next  room — I  didn't  want  to  go  to  bed.  I 
just  knew  I  wouldn't  go  to  sleep  for  the  longest 


White.  New  York. 


'I  just  knew  I  wouldn't  go  to  sleep  for  the  longest  while" 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         93 

while !  I  was  too  excited  at  seeing  Daddy  again 
— I  heard  the  man  come  that  found  the  purse,  and 
then  Mamma  remembered  that  she  had  been  to 
Long  Branch  after  all.  Wasn't  it  funny  she  for- 
got?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  Did  you  hear  the  name  of  the 
man  who  found  the  purse?" 

"Yes,  sir.     But  I  don't  remember  it." 

"Would  you  know  it,  if  you  heard  it?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"It  wasn't  a  Mr.  Trask?" 

"Oh,  do  you  know  Mr.  Trask?  He  was  nice 
to  Hermann.  He  asked  him  how  he  liked  Amer- 
ica. No,  of  course  it  wasn't  Mr.  Trask." 

"He  was  nice  to  Hermann?"  I  was  frankly 
puzzled. 

"Yes,  to  Hermann  here."  She  held  up  the 
German  doll. 

"Oh,  I  see." 

"You  see,  Daddy  had  just  brought  Hermann 
home  to  me,  and  while  I  was  sitting  on  his  lap 
telling  him  all  about  what  I  had  been  doing  while 
he  was  gone,  Mr.  Trask  came  to  see  him.  And 


94  ON  TRIAL 

when  Daddy  said  to  him:  This  is  Doris,5  he 
asked  me  what  Hermann's  name  was,  and  I  told 
him." 

"Was  your  mamma  there  when  Mr.  Trask 
came?" 

"No,  sir.  She  was  helping  Bertha  get  Daddy 
some  supper.  He  hadn't  had  any." 

"Then  she  didn't  see  him  at  all?" 

"Not  till  a  long  time  after  he  came.  They 
talked  ever  so  long.  I  guess  it  was  about  some 
business.  My  mamma  didn't  come  in  until  just 
as  Mr.  Trask  was  going  away." 

"They  weren't — they  weren't  angry  about  any- 
thing, were  they?" 

"Oh,  my,  no !  Mr.  Trask  gave  Daddy  a  piece 
of  paper  all  folded  up.  And  Daddy  said  he  was 
mighty  glad  to  get  it.  And  then  he  gave  Mr. 
Trask  some  money.  And  while  they  were  talk- 
ing, Daddy  took  the  paper  that  Mr.  Trask  had 
given  him  and  tore  the  corner  off  it.  Wasn't  it 
funny,  when  he  said  he  was  'mighty  glad  to  get 
it'  ?  I  guess  he  wasn't  thinking  of  what  he  was 
doing.  I  wanted  to  stop  him,  but  I  was  afraid  " 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         95 

to  interrupt  them.  And  then  Mr.  Trask  asked 
him  to  come  with  him  fishing  on  Sunday.  And 
he  wrote  the  place  where  he  lived  on  a  card  and 
gave  it  to  him.  I  didn't  want  him  to  go  away 
so  soon  again.  So  I  was  glad  when  Mamma  said 
she  didn't  want  him  to  go,  either." 

"  Did  she  say  why  she  didn't  want  him  to 
go?" 

"She  said  she  didn't  like  the  idea  of  his  going 
out  in  one  of  those  boats." 

"Oh.     And  what  did  Mr.  Trask  say  to  that*?" 

"Oh,  he'd  gone  away  then.  Mamma  came  in 
just  as  he  was  going.  And  Daddy  said :  'I  want 
you  to  meet  Mr.  Trask,  May,'  and  he  was  sorry 
Mr.  Trask  had  to  hurry  away.  He  said  he 
wanted  them  to  know  each  other." 

"And  then?" 

"And  then,  they  sent  me  to  bed." 

"But  you  say  you  didn't  go  to  sleep  at  once. 
You  heard  the  man  come  who  brought  back 
your  mamma's  purse?  Did  you  hear  anything 
else?" 

The  child's  whole  expression  changed.     A  look 


96  ON  TRIAL 

of  fear  came  into  her  eyes.     Her  lips  quivered. 

"Oh,  please,  please  don't  ask  me  to  tell  any- 
thing more.  I  can't!  I  can't!  It  frightens  me 
to  remember.  I  cry  most  every  night  when  I  go 
to  bed,  for  I  can't  help  thinking  of  it.  But  I  try 
not  to  let  Aunt  Helen  hear  me !" 

I  saw  that  I  had  better  not  press  her  further 
for  the  present.  Besides  I  had  enough  to  go  on. 
I  must  try  and  find  who  had  brought  back  the 
missing  purse.  "All  right,  my  dear,  we  won't 
talk  any  more  about  it  just  now.  Tell  me,  what 
do  you  do  all  day,  now  that  school  is  over4?  Have 
you  any  playmates?  Any  other  little  girls  you 
know?" 

"No,  sir.  But  when  Margaret  isn't  too  busy, 
Aunt  Helen  lets  her  go  with  me  out  to  the  Drive. 
But  that  isn't  very  often,  'cause  Margaret's  too 
busy,"  she  explained  mournfully. 

"Well,  I  think  we  can  fix  that.  I  must  be  out 
of  town  to-morrow.  But  suppose  I  come  up  the 
following  morning?  I  think  your  Aunt  Helen 
would  let  you  go  out  with  me.  And  you  can  show 
me  all  the  prettiest  places  on  the  Drive.  I  don't 
know  it  at  all." 


I  BUY  A  GIFT  FOR  DORIS         97 

"Don't  know  Riverside  Drive?  How  funny !" 
laughed  Doris. 

I  was  glad  to  see  that  I  had  been  able  to  divert 
her  attention  from  the  recollections  that  fright- 
ened her.  I  felt  like  a  brute,  to  torture  a  child  as 
I  must  later  on.  But  the  story  of  what  had  oc- 
curred later  that  night,  I  must  and  would  have. 
If  I  put  it  on  the  ground  that  in  telling  me  she 
was  going  to  help  her  beloved  Daddy,  which  was 
indeed  the  truth,  it  would  make  it  easier  for  us 
both. 

Having  asked  Doris  to  present  my  compliments 
to  her  aunt,  and  to  say  that  I  hoped  to  see  her 
again  within  a  day  or  two,  I  took  my  departure, 
my  mind  fully  occupied  with  the  missing  purse. 
Was  it  the  same  purse  that  Bertha  had  brought 
to  Mrs.  Stanwood?  Probably.  But  it  had  had 
only  thirty  dollars  in  it,  and,  if  Doris'  accurate 
memory  for  numbers  could  be  relied  upon,  her 
mother  had  said  over  the  telephone  that  it  con- 
tained about  forty.  I  rather  pique  myself  upon 
being  a  judge  of  character.  I  was  sure,  from  see- 
ing her  the  once,  that  Bertha  was  honest.  How 
stupid  I  was  becoming!  McLean  would  have 


98  ON  TRIAL 

done  better!  The  reward,  of  course.  Mrs. 
Strickland  must  have  given  it  to  the  man  who 
returned  it. 

I  was  half  way  home  when  I  remembered  those 
wretched  parcels  under  the  chair! 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  MAKE  THE  ACQUAINTANCE  OF  MR.  BURKE 

FATE  decreed  that  I  should  find  it  impossible  to 
keep  my  promise  to  Doris.  I  found  myself 
obliged  to  postpone  our  outing  for  another  day. 
But  by  way  of  apology,  I  had,  together  with  the 
note  explaining  that  some  important  matters  con- 
nected with  the  case  would  necessitate  a  change 
of  plan  addressed  to  her  aunt,  forwarded  to  the 
child  a  handsome  female  doll  dressed  in  the  most 
approved  German  fashion,  which  I  suggested 
might  be  a  companion  for  Hermann  in  his  exile. 

I  had  added  an  explanation  of  the  mysterious 
bundles  which  could  be  found  under  the  chair  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  had  begged  that  their  con- 
tents might  be  disposed  of  in  whatever  manner 
would  most  commend  itself  to  Mrs.  Stanwood. 
McLean  brought  an  agreeable  note  in  reply. 
Doris  was  delighted  with  her  doll.  She  was  look- 
ing forward  to  initiating  me  into  the  unknown 
beauties  of  Riverside  Drive.  And  the  janitor 

99 


ioo  ON  TRIAL 

happened  to  have  an  infant  of  a  suitable  age  to 
enjoy  the  toys  I  had  originally  designed  for  her 
niece.  So  that  was  satisfactorily  settled. 

I  had,  of  course,  paid  my  client  another  visit. 
If  I  had  had  any  hope  of  finding  him  more  com- 
municative, I  would  have  been  doomed  to  dis- 
appointment. I  was  glad  to  find  that  his  arm 
seemed  to  be  giving  him  less  pain.  I  did  not  men- 
tion having  seen  Doris,  or  the  matter  of  the  purse. 
As  a  leverage,  I  thought  either  piece  of  informa- 
tion would  have  been  of  doubtful  value.  As  a 
matter  of  form,  I  urged  him  once  more  to  give 
me  some  help  in  building  up  his  defence.  His 
only  reply  was  to  remind  me  that  he  did  not 
wish  to  be  defended. 

Relying  on  Doris'  boasted  accuracy  in  regard 
to  figures,  I  telephoned  to  the  Jersey  City  number 
to  find,  as  I  had  surmised,  that  I  was  connected 
with  the  Lost  Articles  Clerk.  He  knew  nothing 
of  any  purse  lost  by  a  Mrs.  Robert  Strickland. 
He  was  disposed  to  cavil  at  my  rather  vague  de- 
scription of  it,  but  accepted  my  explanation  that 
I  was  acting  for  a  friend.  No,  nothing  at  all  like 


MR.  BURKE  101 

it  had  been  turned  in.  Did  he  recall  Mrs.  Strick- 
land having  telephoned  in  person  the  night  of 
June  24th*?  No,  he  did  not.  He  couldn't  be 
supposed  to  remember  the  names  of  all  the  people 
that  called  him  up.  His  manner  implied  that  he 
wouldn't  have  told  me  if  he  had. 

The  next  step,  naturally,  was  to  go  to  Long 
Branch.  Judging  that  the  station-master  would 
be  the  best  person  to  address  myself  to,  I  went  at 
once  in  search  of  him.  As  it  chanced  to  be  his 
dinner  hour,  I  debated  whether  I  should  take  a 
stroll  along  the  beach,  or  wait  where  I  was  until 
his  return.  Chance  decided  me,  and  for  once,  the 
Jade  seemed  to  have  wished  to  do  me  a  good  turn. 

There  was  a  large  news-stand  at  the  station, 
presided  over  by  a  pleasant  looking,  honest-faced 
Irishman  who  had  arrived  at  that  period  of  life 
which  the  French  tactfully  allude  to  as  "between 
two  ages."  I  took  to  him  at  once.  Explaining 
that  I  was  waiting  for  the  absent  station  agent, 
I  asked  permission  to  glance  over  his  stock  in  the 
hope  of  finding  something  to  assist  me  in  passing 
the  time.  Having  confessed  my  weakness  in  the 


102  ON  TRIAL 

matter  of  detective  stories  and  mystery  tales,  Mr. 
Burke — it  was  later  on  that  he  told  me  his  name 
— admitted  a  like  infirmity. 

Having  so  swiftly  and  felicitously  established 
a  common  interest,  conversation  became  easy.  I 
confessed  that  I  followed  the  criminal  branch  of 
the  law  professionally,  which  at  once  brought  us 
to  the  Trask  murder,  in  which  it  turned  out — 
again,  I  pay  my  respects  to  the  goddess  of  Chance 
— that  Mr.  Burke  had  a  peculiar,  almost  intimate 
interest. 

Having  accepted  his  invitation  to  come  inside 
and  take  a  chair,  I  soon  found  myself  comfortably 
seated  in  a  corner  with  my  back  to  the  platform. 
Mr.  Burke  seated  himself  opposite  me,  where  he 
could  keep  his  sharp  eye  out  for  any  potential 
customer,  although  he  admitted  that  at  this  par- 
ticular hour  there  was  no  great  likelihood  of  our 
being  interrupted.  It  is  needless  to  remark  that  I 
devoutly  hoped  that  we  might  not  be.  I  was  be- 
ginning to  have  a  suspicion,  from  my  host's  im- 
pressive manner,  that  I  had  stumbled  upon  the 
very  man  I  was  looking  for. 

"Do  you  know,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Burke  leaning 


MR.  BURKE  103 

forward,  his  hands  on  his  knees,  that  I  was  at  the 
Strickland  house  only  a  few  hours  before  the  mur- 
der was  committed?'  I  expressed  unbounded  as- 
tonishment. 

"And,"  continued  Mr.  Burke,  "you  could  have 
knocked  me  down  with  a  feather  when  I  read 
about  it  in  the  papers.  Him  commit  a  murder! 
Why,  I'd  as  soon  of  thought  of — of  myself  doin' 
it!  If  they'd  have  come  down  the  next  day  and 
arrested  me  for  it,  I  wouldn't  have  been  more  sur- 
prised, believe  me.  And  yet  it  looks  like  he  did 
it — if  I  ain't  asking  an  improper  question." 

"Yes,  it  looks  as  if  he  did,"  I  admitted.  "In 
fact  he  declares  himself  that  he  did." 

"Yes,  I  see  that,  too,"  nodded  Mr.  Burke. 
"Why,"  he  broke  out  afresh,  "a  kinder,  pleasanter- 
spoken  gentleman  you  wouldn't  come  across  in 
a  day's  journey!  He  was  that  agreeable  to  me, 
and  he  was  as  patient  with  her.  And  she  acted  aw- 
ful funny.  First,  she  hadn't  lost  it.  No,  she 
wouldn't  hear  of  it.  And  there  were  her  callin'- 
cards  inside,  half  a  dozen  of  'em.  And  I've  heard 
since  that  she  had  been  telephonin'  all  over  the 
place  about  it,  too.  She  had  the  very  station 


104  ON  TRIAL 

master  you're  lookin'  for  on  the  line  twice.  It 
beats  me !" 

"But  you  forget  you  haven't  told  me  what  it 
was,  or  how  you  happened  to  call  at  the  house." 

"That's  just  like  me!"  laughed  Mr.  Burke. 
"I  never  could  tell  a  story  right.  I  always  begin 
in  the  middle  and  work  back  to  the  beginnin'. 
Besides,  I'm  extra  excited  over  this.  It's  all  so 
damned  queer.  And  him  a  murderer!  Well, 
I'll  take  a  fresh  start,  and  if  there's  anything  you 
don't  understand  because  I'm  leavin'  it  out,  sing 
out." 

I  promised  to  "sing  out,"  and  Mr.  Burke  began. 

"It  was  this  way.  Things  was  pretty  brisk 
just  before  the  4.17  train  pulled  out.  There  was 
a  whole  lot  of  people  who  happened  to  be  goin' 
up  to  the  city  by  it  that  day." 

"Just  a  moment:  what  day  was  it^  Do  you 
remember'?" 

"Sure.  June  the  23rd.  The  day  before  the 
murder.  As  I  was  sayin',  there  was  an  unusual 
crowd  of  people  goin'  to  town  for  some  reason  or 
other,  and  I  was  pretty  busy  tendin'  to  'em. 
After  the  train  had  pulled  out,  I  happened  to 


MR.  BURKE  105 

come  out  from  behind  here  to  go  over  and  say 
something  to  one  of  the  boys.  And  right  there, 
lyin'  on  the  platform  in  plain  sight,  was  one  of 
them  little  bags  that  the  women  folks  carry.  It 
was  close  down  to  the  tracks,  as  if  some  one  had 
dropped  it  just  as  they  was  gettin'  into  the  train. 

"Well,  first  thing  I  thought  I'd  hand  it  into  the 
office.  And  then  the  idea  come  to  me,  that  I'd 
look  inside  of  it  first.  And  if  there  was  anything 
valuable  in  it,  why  shouldn't  yours  truly  get  the 
reward.  I  didn't  see  no  reason  for  dividin'  it. 
I'd  found  it  without  any  help.  Was  I  right  or 
wrong  ?" 

"You  were  perfectly  right,"  I  assured  him. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  done,  anyway.  A  local 
happened  to  come  along  just  then,  and  I  was  busy 
again  for  a  few  minutes.  When  I  got  time  to 
look  at  the  thing,  I  see  that  it  had  money  in  it 
sure  enough.  I  wasn't  goin'  to  take  any  chances 
emptying  it  out  here  to  see  what  there  was  in  it. 
Time  enough  to  do  that  after  I  shut  up  shop,  when 
there' d  be  nobody  round  to  butt  in.  There's  an 
awful  lot  of  rubberers  round  a  railroad  station. 
You  wouldn't  believe  it!" 


io6  ON  TRIAL 

I  tried  to  look  my  regretful  surprise. 

"After  I'd  put  the  shutters  up,  I  locked  the 
door.  Then  I  emptied  the  thing  on  that  box  over 
there.  First,  I  counted  the  money.  There  was 
thirty-eight  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents.  Then 
I  took  a  look  at  the  other  things.  There  was  the 
usual  amount  of  truck  you  would  expect  to  find 
in  a  woman's  purse.  A  veil,  half-a-dozen  hair- 
pins, some  samples,  and  things  like  that.  And 
there  was  three  or  four  cards  with  her  name  on 
them.  Mrs.  Robert  Strickland,  and  the  address. 
You  know  what  it  was,  I  don't  just  remember 
now." 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"And  there  was  a  slip  of  paper  with  a  Long 
Branch  address  written  on  it.  I  should  say  that 
it  was  in  a  man's  handwritin'.  Wait  a  bit,  and 
I'll  tell  you.  Now  I  have  it.  It  was  206  Hen- 
derson Place.  That's  only  about  three  blocks 
from  here." 

"Well,  as  that  was  considerable  nearer  for  me 
than  goin'  to  the  New  York  address,  I  thought 
I'd  take  a  look  at  it  on  the  way  home.  But  the 
house  was  all  dark.  I  was  a  little  later  than 


MR.  BURKE  107 

usual.  It  didn't  look  as  if  any  one  was  sittin' 
up  worry  in'.  So  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  go 
round  the  next  day. 

"The  next  day  at  the  noon  hour,  when  there 
wasn't  much  doin',  I  gave  Tommy  Jenkins  ten 
cents  to  watch  the  stand  for  half  an  hour,  and  I 
hikes  back  to  old  206.  There  was  nobody  there 
but  an  old  woman  who  must  have  thought  I  was 
a  porch  climber  or  somethin'  like  that.  She  kept 
the  door  on  the  chain,  and  talked  to  me  through 
the  crack.  She  said  she  didn't  know  of  any  party 
by  the  name  of  Strickland.  She  was  sure  they 
didn't  belong  there.  She  wouldn't  tell  me  who 
did  live  there  when  there  was  any  person  in  the 
house.  Said  she  had  been  alone  there  for  ever 
so  long.  Finally  she  did  admit  that  there 
had  been  a  lady  there  the  day  before.  But  she 
didn't  know  her  name.  So  there  was  nothing 
for  me  to  do  but  go  to  the  address  on  the 
card." 

"One  moment.  Have  you  happened  to  hear 
who  owned  the  house  you  went  to^" 

"Not  yet.  I  haven't  had  time.  But  I'm  goin' 
to,  just  out  of  curiosity." 


io8  ON  TRIAL 

I  felt  pretty  sure  I  could  have  told  him  the 
name  of  the  owner.  But  I  didn't. 

"So,"  continued  Mr.  Burke,  "that  same  night 
• — the  night  of  the  murder,  mind  you,  I  got  off  a 
little  earlier,  spruced  up  a  little  bit,  and  went  up 
to  the  city  myself.  I  found  the  house  without 
any  trouble,  and  went  in  and  read  all  the  names 
on  the  bells.  Sure  enough,  the  name  of  Strick- 
land was  there  all  right." 

"One  moment,  Mr.  Burke.  Can  you  tell  me 
what  time  that  was*?" 

"There  now !"  said  Mr.  Burke  in  open  admira- 
tion. "I  just  knew  you'd  ask  that.  And  if  I 
weren't  a  chump,  I'd  be  able  to  tell  you  to  the 
minute.  But  I  can't,  that  is,  exactly.  But  it 
couldn't  have  been  long  after  half-past  eight.  I 
know  I  was  on  my  way  back  down  town  when  I 
looked  at  my  watch  to  see  if  it  was  too  late  to  go 
to  a  picture  show  or  something.  I  thought  as 
long  as  I  had  taken  an  evenin'  off,  I  might  as  well 
amuse  myself.  Besides,  didn't  I  have  eight  good 
bucks  in  my  pocket  that  was  all  to  the  good?" 

"Eight  good  what?" 

"Bucks.     Dollars.     The  reward,  you  know." 


MR.  BURKE  109 

"Oh!     They  gave  you  eight  dollars  reward?" 

"He  did.  After  he'd  counted  the  money,  which 
was  in  three  ten  dollar  bills,  and  the  rest  in  twos 
and  ones,  he  just  rolled  up  the  smaller  bills  and 
handed  them  to  me.  Oh,  he's  a  fine  man,  all 
right.  And  him  gettin'  ready  maybe  then  to  com- 
mit a  murder!  But  I'm  gettin'  ahead  of  my 
story. 

"Well,  there  was  a  nice  lookin'  servant  girl 
opened  the  door  for  me.  And  then  I  told  her 
what  I  wanted  and  asked  if  a  party  by  the  name 
of  Strickland  was  at  home.  'Mr.  or  Mrs.  Strick- 
land?' she  asks.  I  told  her  I  guessed  I  wanted  to 
see  Mrs.  Strickland.  She  asked  me  as  pretty  as 
you  please  to  wait  and  she'd  see.  I  heard  a  man's 
voice  ask:  'Who's  Mr.  Burke*?'  And  then  a 
woman's  voice  answered:  'Why,  I  don't  know.' 
Of  course  she  didn't.  How  could  she?  Then 
the  pretty  servant  girl  came  back  and  asked  me 
to  come  in. 

"I  went  into  a  big  room  all  furnished  up  like 
the  rooms  you  see  on  the  stage.  There  was  a  big, 
fine-lookin'  man  there  and  as  pretty  a  woman  as 
you'd  see  in  a  day's  journey.  The  servant  girl 


no  ON  TRIAL 

looked  pretty  good  to  me  till  I  saw  the  lady  of 
the  house.  After  that — "  Mr.  Burke  made  an 
eloquent  gesture. 

"They  both  was  as  polite  as  could  be  an'  asked 
me  to  take  a  chair.  But  the  woman  had  a  sort 
of  scared  look  in  her  eyes.  It  seemed  to  be  up  to 
me  to  make  the  first  move.  So  I  says :  'I  found 
a  purse  that  belongs  to  you,  mum,  I  think.' 
Quick  as  a  flash,  the  lady  says:  'Robert  dear, 
your  dinner  will  be  ready  now;  you  had  better  go 
in  before  it  gets  cold.' 

"But  he  didn't  seem  to  be  in  any  hurry.  'I  can 
wait  a  few  minutes  longer,'  he  says,  easy  and 
pleasant  like.  Til  only  take  a  minute,  mum,'  I 
says.  'I've  come  all  the  way  from  Long  Branch.' 
'Have  you  lost  a  purse,  May*?'  he  asks.  'Why, 
no;  I  don't  think  so,'  says  she.  'Are  you  sure, 
mum*?'  says  I.  She  waited  a  minute  before  givin' 
me  an  answer.  'Positive,'  says  she.  And  all  the 
time  she  looked  as  if  she  was  beggin'  me  to  go.  I 
couldn't  understand  it. 

"  'Where  did  you  find  the  purse,  Mr.  Burke?' 
asks  the  man.  I  suppose  he  was  Mr.  Strickland. 


MR.  BURKE  ill 

'On  the  platform  of  the  railroad  station  at  Long 
Branch  last  night.  I'm  the  news  agent  there,7  I 
told  him.  'Long  Branch?  Then  it  can't  be 
yours,  can  it,  May?'  She  throws  her  head  back 
sort  of  defiant  like.  'Certainly  not.  Mr.  Burke 
has  evidently  made  a  mistake.' 

"That  made  me  sort  of  tired.  Here  am  I  tryin' 
to  be  honest  and  return  a  purse  that  has  nearly 
forty  dollars  in  it.  The  first  place  I  go,  they  acts 
as  if  they  thought  I  was  only  makin'  an  excuse  to 
try  to  break  in.  The  second,  they  acts  as  if  they 
had  never  heard  of  a  lost  purse.  I  guess  they 
could  see  that  I  was  sort  of  gettin'  hot.  I  turned 
to  him. 

"  That's  funny,'  I  says.  There's  half  a  dozen 
cards  in  it  with  Mrs.  Strickland's  name  and  ad- 
dress on  'em.' 

"He  looked  kind  of  queer  at  that.  He  turned 
to  her.  But  she  was  fussin'  with  some  flowers  on 
the  table  as  if  she  hadn't  rightly  heard  what  I  said. 
That  seems  strange,'  he  says.  'Perhaps  one  of 
my  friends  might — '  But  he  didn't  let  her  finish. 
'What  kind  of  a  purse  is  it,  Mr.  Burke?'  But  I 


112  ON  TRIAL 

was  still  sore.  So  I  got  up  as  if  I  was  goin'  to 
go,  and  I  says:  'Well,  if  you  haven't  lost  one, 
I'll  be  movin'  along.' 

"Then  he  turned  to  her  very  gentle.  'It's  just 
possible  that  you've  made  a  mistake.  Let  Mrs. 
Strickland  look  at  it,'  he  says  to  me.  But  I 
wasn't  goin'  to  be  caught  like  that.  Td  rather 
have  you  describe  it  first,'  I  reminds  him. 

"  'Of  course;  you're  perfectly  right,'  he  laughed 
at  his  own  mistake.  Then  he  says  to  her :  'You 
haven't  more  than  two  or  three  purses,  May;  de- 
scribe them  to  Mr.  Burke.'  But  she  just  kept  on 
fussin'  with  them  flowers.  'But  I  haven't  lost  a 
purse.'  If  I'd  been  her  husband,  I'd  a  wanted 
to  shake  her.  Mebby  he  did.  But  he  just 
treated  her  as  if  she  was  a  bad  child.  'I  know,' 
he  says.  'But  it  would  only  take  a  moment  to 
describe  them.' 

"She  looked  more  scared  than  ever.  But  she 
tossed  her  head  and  began  to  rattle  off  about  the 
purses  so  fast  that  I  could  hardly  catch  what  she 
said.  'Well,  there's  my  mesh  bag,  with  the  oxi- 
dised silver  purse;  there's  that  green  leather  bag 
you  gave  me  for  my  birthday — '  I  shook  my 


MR.  BURKE  113 

head  to  both.  'I  guess  this  one  isn't  yours,5  I 
said.  And  this  time  I  really  started  for  the  door. 

"  'No,  I  knew  it  wasn't,'  she  called  after  me. 
And  her  voice  sounded  as  glad  as  could  be !  But 
he  made  one  more  try.  'Wait  a  minute;  you've 
forgotten  that  Frenchy  black  velvet  affair  you 
usually  carry.'  'What  kind4?'  says  I,  from  the 
door.  'Black  velvet  with  a  gold  clasp.'  I  took 
it  from  my  pocket  and  held  it  up.  'This  it?'  I 
asks,  lookin'  at  him. 

"  'Of  course  it  is;  isn't  it,  May?'  She  sort  of 
fell  into  a  big  arm  chair.  She  didn't  look  at  the 
purse.  She  just  looked  at  him.  'Yes,  it  looks 
like  it.  I  don't  understand,'  she  says  in  a  faint 
voice. 

"  'How  much  was  in  it,  mum?'  I  asks  her. 
'About  forty  dollars,  I  think.'  'That's  right,'  I 
says  to  him.  Thirty-eight  dollars  and  seventy- 
five  cents.  Count  it,  if  you  don't  mind,  sir.' 

"He  took  it  over  to  the  table  and  counted  it. 
'That's  the  amount  that's  here.  You  say  you 
found  this  at  Long  Branch,  Mr.  Burke?' 

"  'Yes,  sir,'  I  told  him.  'On  the  platform,  last 
night.  There  was  a  slip  of  paper  in  it,  with  a 


ii4  ON  TRIAL 

Long  Branch  address  written  on  it — 206  Hender- 
son Place.5  " 

"You  told  him  that?"  I  was  too  excited  to  be 
able  to  keep  from  interrupting  him.  He  looked 
at  me  in  surprise. 

"Sure.  Why  not?  And  then  I  says  to  him: 
'I  didn't  get  a  chanct  to  go  round  there  till  last 
evenin'.  There  wasn't  nobody  home  but  an  old 
woman  who  said  she  was  the  housekeeper.  She 
said  that  she  didn't  know  any  party  by  the  name 
of  Strickland,  but  that  there' d  been  a  lady  there 
that  day.  So  I  thought  I'd  come  to  the  address 
on  the  card.'  T  see,  I  see,'  says  he.  'Well,  we're 
greatly  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Burke.'  I  started  to 
go,  thinkin'  that  I'd  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
for  nothin',  when  he  calls  me  back. 

"  'Hold  on,  hold  on,'  he  says,  with  his  hearty 
laugh.  'You're  entitled  to  some  compensation 
for  your  trouble.'  And  he  stuffs  the  bills  into  me 
hand.  I  thanked  him,  and  he  insisted  on  showin' 
me  out  of  the  door  himself.  But  never  a  word  of 
thanks  did  she  say.  Women  are  queer,  I  know. 
But  I  never  saw  one  yet  so  sorry  to  get  back  forty 
dollars  as  that  one  was !" 


O 

PH 


MR.  BURKE  115 

Mr.  Burke  paused,  evidently  waiting  for  some 
comment  from  me.  Without  saying  anything,  I 
drew  two  photographs  from  my  pocket.  They 
were  portraits  of  Strickland  and  his  wife,  which, 
I  have  neglected  to  say,  Mrs.  Stanwood  had 
loaned  me.  Silently,  I  held  them  out  for  Mr. 
Burke's  inspection. 

"As  like  as  two  peas!"  was  his  comment.  But 
he  immediately  qualified  the  remark  by  adding 
that  he  couldn't  have  believed  that  Mrs.  Strick- 
land could  ever  have  so  happy  an  expression. 

At  that  moment,  a  train  pulled  in,  and  Mr. 
Burke  immediately  became  busy.  I  was  only 
too  thankful  that  we  had  not  been  interrupted 
before.  When  the  station  was  once  more  quiet, 
I  selected  half-a-dozen  books  for  myself.  As 
none  of  the  authors  were  known  to  me,  I  permitted 
myself  to  be  guided  in  my  choice  by  the  friendly 
proprietor. 

We  parted  with  mutual  expressions  of  esteem, 
which,  I  am  convinced,  were  perfectly  genuine  on 
both  sides.  I  was  sure  that  I  could  rely  upon  him 
to  give  his  remarkable  testimony  at  the  trial, 
should  I  require  him.  That  he  would  be  a  good 


ii6  ON  TRIAL 

witness,  I  was  convinced.  And  I  thought  I  could 
also  depend  upon  my  own  judgment  sufficiently 
to  feel  sure  that  his  honest  face  would  make  a 
favourable  impression  upon  any  jury. 

I  returned  to  town  feeling  well  rewarded  for 
the  trip.  I  had  the  foundation  on  which  to  build 
a  defence  to  the  murder  charge.  But  there  still 
remained  the  matter  of  the  theft  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand dollars.  I  could  not  blind  myself  to  the 
fact  that  that  could  not  be  explained  away.  Nor 
would  any  jury  be  inclined  to  accept  any  other 
motive  for  the  murder,  however  strong  it  might  be. 

I  knew  that  the  entire  police  force  of  New  York 
was  on  the  lookout  for  any  clue  to  the  missing 
accomplice.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  put  the  mat- 
ter in  the  hands  of  a  firm  of  private  detectives 
whom  I  knew  to  be  excellent.  Not  that  I  built 
any  very  high  hopes  upon  the  result  of  their  en- 
deavours. It  was  well  nigh  impossible  to  find  a 
man  of  whom  one  had  not  the  slightest  descrip- 
tion. Still,  it  was  worth  trying. 


CHAPTER  VII 

I    SET    ABOUT    GETTING    DORIS'S    STORY 

THE  next  day  it  rained  in  torrents.  All  thought 
of  going  with  my  young  friend  for  a  walk  in  her 
favourite  pleasure  ground  had  to  be  abandoned. 
But,  partly  because  I  did  not  want  to  disappoint 
the  child  again,  and  partly  because  I  wanted  to 
question  her  on  some  points  while  the  occurrences 
were  still  fresh  in  her  mind,  I  determined  to  go 
up  to  Mrs.  Stan  wood's  to  see  Doris  in  spite  of 
the  storm. 

Glancing  up  at  the  drawing-room  windows  be- 
fore I  crossed  the  street,  I  could  see  her  gazing 
disconsolately  down  at  the  wet  pavement.  A  sud- 
den realisation  of  her  loneliness  swept  over  me. 
Poor  little  girl!  That  she  had  suddenly  and  in 
an  inexplicable  manner  lost  both  her  parents  was 
all  that  she  knew  now.  How  much  more  terrible 
would  be  her  grief  when  she  grew  old  enough  to 
realise  in  what  manner  that  loss  had  come  about. 

I  stood  for  several  minutes  on  the  kerb,  hoping 
117 


ii8  ON  TRIAL 

that  her  glance  might  turn  in  my  direction.  At 
length  my  patience  was  rewarded.  She  saw  and 
recognised  me.  I  waved  my  hand  to  her,  and  she 
returned  my  salute,  immediately  disappearing 
from  her  post.  I  hastened  across  to  the  building, 
and,  in  a  few  moments  found  myself  at  Mrs.  Stan- 
wood's  door.  Doris  was  there,  standing  beside 
the  maid.  She  gave  me  one  of  her  pretty  little 
courtesies,  and  held  up  her  cheek  to  be  kissed.  An 
act  which  touched  me  most  deeply,  and  made  me 
feel,  if  possible,  more  remorseful  than  ever  when  I 
thought  of  the  pain  I  might  be  about  to  cause  her. 

"Come  right  in  the  drawing-room,"  she  whis- 
pered in  my  ear.  "I  didn't  tell  them  you  were 
coming,  'cause  I  wanted  it  to  be  a  surprise." 

I  was  greatly  puzzled.  Who  were  they?  I 
looked  to  the  maid  for  an  explanation.  But  she 
gave  me  no  help,  but  stood  looking  down  at  Doris 
with  an  indulgent  and  kindly  smile. 

"Mrs.  Stan  wood  begs  you  to  excuse  her  until 
later,"  she  said.  "She  hopes  to  see  you  before 
you  go." 

Doris  watched  me  with  growing  impatience 
while  I  divested  myself  of  my  mackintosh  and 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY         119 

umbrella.  When  I  was  quite  ready,  she  took  my 
hand  and  led  me  into  the  drawing-room.  Seated 
opposite  each  other  at  a  diminutive  table  which 
was  all  set  out  with  toy  dishes  were  Hermann  and 
the  new  doll  that  I  had  sent.  My  surprise  was 
so  genuine,  that  Doris  was  delighted.  She  danced 
up  and  down,  clapping  her  hands. 

"You  didn't  guess  who  it  was,  did  you?" 

"I  certainly  did  not.  Then  you  liked  your 
new  dolly,  did  you?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  she  assured  me.  "And  Hermann 
likes  her,  too.  Her  name  is  Gretchen,"  she  an- 
nounced. 

I  bowed  formally  to  Gretchen,  and  was  casting 
about  in  my  mind  as  to  just  how  I  might  best 
begin  the  task  in  hand,  when  Doris  solved  the 
problem  for  me  by  giving  me  a  lead. 

"Where  did  you  go  yesterday?  Aunt  Helen 
said  you  were  going  away." 

"I  went  down  to  Long  Branch,"  I  said 
promptly. 

"Oh,  that's  where  Mr.  Trask  goes  fishing,  and 
where  my  mamma's  purse  was  lost.  Have  you 
seen  my  mamma?" 


120  ON  TRIAL 

"Not  yet,"  I  said  hastily.  "But  I  saw  your 
daddy  yesterday." 

"Oh,  did  you!  How  is  he?  What  did  he 
say4?  And  when  is  he  coming  for  me'?" 

"I  think  his  arm  is  better,  I'm  glad  to  say.  He 
didn't  say  anything,  because,"  I  hastened  to  add, 
for  she  looked  as  if  she  were  going  to  cry,  "I 
didn't  tell  him  anything  about  seeing  you.  I 
wanted  that  to  be  a  surprise." 

I  could  have  blushed  at  myself!  But  what 
could  I  do?  Fortunately,  Doris  accepted  my  ex- 
planation. 

"But  when  is  he  coming  for  me?" 

"How  would  you  like  me  to  take  you  to  see  him 
first?" 

She  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Oh,  goody,  goody! 
I'll  tell  Aunt  Helen.  And  it  won't  take  Margaret 
a  minute  to  get  me  ready!" 

She  was  nearly  out  of  the  door  before  I  could 
stop  her.  Children  are  so  precipitate ! 

"Doris!     Doris!     Wait  a  moment!"  I  called. 

She  came  back  to  my  side  reluctantly. 

"I  don't  mean  now,  not  to-day,  my  dear 
child." 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY        121 

Her  face  clouded  with  disappointment. 

"To-morrow  ?" 

"No,  not  to-morrow.  Sit  down  here  beside  me, 
and  listen  a  minute." 

She  obeyed,  sitting  close  beside  me  and  looking 
up  into  my  face.  Now  I  was  in  for  it ! 

"Listen,  Doris,"  I  said,  taking  her  hand  in 
mine.  "It  won't  be  for  quite  a  while,  probably 
not  for  more  than  a  week.  But  you  must  be 
very  patient.  I  told  you,  didn't  I,  that  I  was  try- 
ing to  help  your  father  and  that  I  felt  sure  that 
you  could  help  him,  too,  if  only  you  would  be  a 
brave  little  girl?' 

She  nodded  her  head,  without  speaking. 

"Well,  the  way  you  can  help  him  is  to  tell  me 
some  things  that  I  want  to  know  and  that  I  am 
sure  you  can  tell  me." 

"I'll  tell  Daddy  anything." 

"Yes,  but  that  won't  do  just  now.  You  see,  he 
mustn't  get  excited  on  account  of  his  hurt  arm." 

"How  did  he  hurt  his  arm?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"A  bad  man  hit  his  arm  with  a  big  stick." 

"When?" 

"The  night  he  came  home." 


122  ON  TRIAL 

"Why  didn't  Daddy  hurt  him  with  that  shiny 
thing  he  carries  in  his  bag?" 

"What  shiny  thing,  Doris4?" 

"He  called  it  a — a  re-vol-ver,"  she  said  slowly, 
trying  to  recall  the  unfamiliar  word. 

I  was  compelled  to  wipe  my  face  with  my  hand- 
kerchief. 

"Where  did  you  ever  see  a  revolver4?"  I  asked 
with  a  laugh  which  I  tried  to  make  light. 

"Why,  when  he  went  to  get  Hermann  out  of 
his  bag,  I  saw  a  shiny  thing  lying  in  it.  And 
while  Daddy  was  unwrapping  Hermann,  I  picked 
it  up.  When  he  saw  me,  he  dropped  Hermann 
on  the  floor,  and  grabbed  it  out  of  my  hand.  He 
told  me  I  must  never  touch  it.  That  I  might  hurt 
myself.  That  it  was  a  re-vol-ver,  and  that  it  was 
to  hurt  bad  people  with." 

"What  did  he  do  with  it  then?" 

"I  don't  know.  For  then  I  saw  Hermann  on 
the  floor  and  I  ran  to  pick  him  up." 

"Well !"  I  said,  "I  think  you  have  a  good  mem- 
ory for  other  things  beside  numbers.  You  remem- 
ber a  big  word  like  revolver,  and  you  never  saw 
such  a  thing  but  once  in  your  life." 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY        123 

A  curious  look  came  into  her  eyes.  Her  face 
flushed.  She  hung  her  head.  Then  she  looked 
up  bravely. 

"I  did  see  it  one  more  time,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"And  when  was  that?" 

She  buried  her  little  face  in  the  hollow  of  my 
arm. 

"Daddy  had  it  in  his  hand  when  he  was  run- 
ning out  the  door.  Oh,  please  don't  make  me  talk 
about  it,  it  frightens  me  so!" 

I  soothed  her  as  best  I  could.  ,  But  I  was 
greatly  puzzled.  What  could  frighten  a  child  in 
seeing  her  father  run  out  of  the  door  even  if  he 
were  armed  with  a  weapon  the  use  of  which  she 
couldn't  possibly  understand?  Could  it  be  that 
Strickland  had  threatened  his  wife  first?  But  I 
instantly  dismissed  that  idea  from  my  mind.  No, 
Doris  had  something  else  in  her  mind.  But  she 
had  gone  to  bed  long  before.  Even  if  she  had 
been  lying  awake  all  that  time,  it  was  hard  to  see 
what  could  have  frightened  her  so  much.  Strick- 
land and  his  wife  must  have  had  a  terrible  scene. 
Evidently  the  child  had  been  so  badly  frightened 


124  ON  TRIAL 

at  what  she  had  heard  that  she  had  come  running 
out  of  the  bedroom.  It  was  my  unpleasant  duty 
to  drag  the  whole  story  from  her  unwilling  lips. 

"Who  do  you  suppose  I  saw  when  I  was  down 
at  Long  Branch4?"  I  asked,  more  to  gain  time  than 
for  anything  else. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  languidly,  raising  her 
head.  But  I  saw  that  she  welcomed  the  change 
of  subject. 

"Mr.  Burke." 

"Mr.  Burke?" 

"Yes.  He  is  the  man  who  brought  your  moth- 
er's purse  back  to  her." 

"He  must  be  a  nice  man." 

"He  is.  But  how  do  you  know?  You  didn't 
see  him?" 

"No,  sir.  But  when  I  heard  Daddy  going  out 
to  the  door  with  him,  I  ran  out  to  ask  Mamma  if 
she  had  got  her  purse  back,  and  I  heard  Daddy 
and  the  man  talking  in  the  hall,  and  I  could  tell 
by  the  way  Daddy  talked  that  he  thought  he 
was  nice." 

"And  what  did  your  mother  say?" 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY        125 

"Oh,  nothing.  She  said  she  had  found  it,  and 
that  I  must  go  back  to  bed  like  a  good  girl.  And 
when  I  told  her  I  couldn't  go  to  sleep,  she  said 
I  must  go  to  sleep.  But  I  didn't  for  ever  so 
long." 

"And  did  you  come  out  again?" 

"Yes,  sir."  The  look  of  fear  came  back  into 
her  face.  "Must  I  tell  that  part?  Oh,  please 
don't  make  me." 

"I  fear  you  must,  my  dear.  Remember,  every- 
thing you  tell  me  is  going  to  help  your  father." 

She  sought  my  hand  again.  "When — when  I 
came  out  next  time,  was  when  Daddy  was  run- 
ning out  the  door.  And  Mamma — "  Her  voice 
broke.  She  had  to  wait  a  minute  before  going 
on.  "And  Mamma  was  lying  on  the  sofa,  crying. 
And  I  ran  to  her  and  said:  'Mamma,  Mamma! 
What's  the  matter?'*  And  then  I  began  to  cry, 
too." 

She  was  crying  now.  I  could  only  pat  her  lit- 
tle hand.  I  would  have  given  anything  I  pos- 
sessed at  that  moment  if  I  could  have  stopped 
there. 


126  ON  TRIAL 

"Go  on,  Doris.  Remember  that  you're  help- 
ing. I  know  it's  hard,  dear  child !" 

"She  wouldn't  say  anything  to  me.  She  acted 
as  if  she  didn't  know  I  was  there.  And  then  she 
pushed  me  away  and  ran  over  to  the  telephone. 
And  she  said:  'He's  gone!  He's  gone!  If  he 
finds  him,  he'll  kill  him !  His  whole  life  will  be 
ruined !'  And  then  she  took  the  telephone  in  her 
hand  and  called  loud  into  it.  'Hello!  Hello! 
Give  me  182  River.' 

"And  then  she  saw  me.  And — and  she  took 
me  in  her  arms.  And  she  called  me  her  darling, 
and  her  baby,  and  her  little  girl.  And  then  she 
called  into  the  telephone  again,  and  she  asked  if 
Mr.  Trask  was  there.  But  he  wasn't." 

"How  did  you  know  that?" 

"Because  she  said  she'd  call  again." 

"What  did  she  do  then?" 

"She  cried,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 
And  I  cried,  too.  And  I  was  so  frightened !  And 
I'm  frightened  now." 

Again  the  poor  child  hid  her  face.  But  she  was 
a  brave  little  thing !  For  after  a  minute  she  went 
on  again  without  any  urging  from  me. 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY        127 

"And  Mamma's  hair  came  down,  and  she  didn't 
notice  it.  And  then  she  stopped  a  minute  and 
told  me  to  go  to  Bertha's  room  and  see  if  she  was 
in  bed.  And  I  wasn't  to  wake  her  if  she  was 
asleep.  I  was  just  to  open  the  door  as  quiet  as 
I  could  and  look  in.  It  took  me  a  long  time 
'cause  the  door  creaks  so.  But  I  saw  Bertha  in 
bed  and  asleep,  and  I  didn't  wake  her.  And  I 
came  back  and  told  Mamma.  She  had  fixed  her 
hair  up,  but  not  as  nice  as  she  always  does.  And 
her  hat  was  on  the  table  beside  the  telephone. 

"And  I  asked  her  where  my  daddy  was,  and 
why  he  didn't  come  back.  And  she  didn't  tell 
me.  And  then  I  asked  her  if  she  was  going  out, 
too.  And  she  didn't  answer  at  all.  She  was 
crying  again,  but  not  so  loud.  And  then  she  ran 
again  over  to  the  telephone  and  told  them  she 
wanted  182  River  again.  And  she  called  awful 
loud:  'Is  that  you,  Gerald  Trask^'  And  I  ran 
over  and  held  onto  her  dress.  And  then — "  The 
poor  child  actually  wrung  her  hands.  "And  then 
I  heard  the  telephone  give  a  funny  little  noise." 

"A  noised     What  sort  of  a  noise?" 

"It  sort  of  went  'Bang' !     Like  a  firecracker." 


128  ON  TRIAL 

"And  did  your  mamma  hear  it,  too?" 

"Yes,  sir.  For  she  screamed  out  loud,  and 
said :  'My  God !  He's  killed  him !'  And  I  was 
frightened  worse  than  ever.  And  I  begged  her  to 
take  me  in  her  arms  because  I  was  frightened. 
And  she  did  take  me  in  her  arms,  and  she  cried 
some  more  and  said  'Good-bye.'  And  then  she 
put  me  down  on  the  sofa,  and  ran  over  to  the 
table  and  put  on  her  hat.  And  then,"  sobbed 
poor  Doris,  "she  went  away." 

I  took  the  poor  child  on  my  lap,  and  let  her 
cry  her  heart  out  with  her  head  on  my  shoulder. 
It  only  goes  to  show  how  curiously  the  human 
mind  will  work  at  times  when  I  admit  that,  in  the 
midst  of  my  genuine  sympathy  for  the  poor  tor- 
tured child,  the  thought  of  McLean's  face  if  he 
could  see  me,  flashed  into  my  mind. 

After  a  short  time,  she  began  to  cry  less  vio- 
lently. The  force  of  her  grief  seemed  to  be  about 
spent.  I  looked  up  to  see  Mrs.  Stanwood  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway.  If  anything  she  looked  more 
ill  than  when  I  had  seen  her  before.  Her  face 
wore  a  smile  that  was  tinged  with  bitterness.  She 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY         129 

shook  her  head  silently  as  she  pointed  to  the  child 
in  my  arms. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  really  be- 
lieve that  all  this  can  do  any  possible  good4?"  she 
asked. 

I  was  stung  by  the  injustice  of  her  words. 

"You  cannot  believe  that  I  derive  much  pleas- 
ure from  it,"  I  retorted.  "Surely  I  do  not  look  to 
be  the  sort  of  person  who  would  find  wanton 
pleasure  in  this  sort  of  thing!" 

"Doris  dear,"  she  said  gently,  ignoring  my 
words,  "hadn't  you  better  go  out  and  let  Margaret 
get  you  ready  for  luncheon*?  You  will  feel  bet- 
ter after  she  has  bathed  your  eyes." 

Doris  obediently  slid  down  from  my  lap  and 
went  slowly  towards  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
she  paused  to  look  back  at  me. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Arbuckle,"  she  said.  "And 
you'll  tell  my  daddy  that  I  tried  to  help,  although 
it  made  me  cry?" 

"Indeed,  I  will.  I'll  tell  him  what  a  brave 
little  girl  you  are!"  I  assured  her  as  well  as  I 
could  for  the  lump  in  my  throat. 


130  ON  TRIAL 

After  she  had  disappeared,  Mrs.  Stan  wood  re- 
peated her  question  in  a  slightly  modified  form. 

"But  what  good  can  it  do?  Can  what  you 
have  drawn  from  Doris  help  Robert  Strickland 
in  the  slightest  degree?  I  do  not  see  how  it  can." 

"It  is  only  a  beginning,"  I  admitted.  "But, 
remember,  up  to  now  I  have  been  like  a  man 
groping  in  the  dark.  But  surely  you  realise  that 
what  I  have  already  learned  will  be  a  foundation 
for  building  up  a  defence?  There  are  many  miss- 
ing links  as  yet.  Very  well;  I  must  find  them. 
You  must  acknowledge  that  I  am  heavily  handi- 
capped until  I  can  find  some  trace  of  Mrs.  Strick- 
land." 

"You  will  never  find  her."  For  a  moment  her 
face  lost  its  bitter  look.  The  tears  brimmed  over 
her  faded  eyes.  "I  am  convinced  now  that  she 
is  no  longer  living.  Small  wonder  if  she  should 
have  made  way  with  herself.  After  all,  there  is 
a  limit  to  what  women  can  endure.  Poor  May! 
She  has  been  called  upon  to  bear  more  than  her 
share!" 

"Then  you  could  supply  at  least  some  of  the 
missing  links?"  I  said  boldly. 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY         131 

"Yes;  I  could  supply  many  of  them." 

"And  you  refuse  to  do  so,  when  a  man's  life 
may  depend  upon  the  very  thing  you  are  holding 
back?" 

"I  have  already  told  you  that  anything  I  might 
say  would  not  help  him." 

"Let  me  ask  you  this:  Have  you  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  events  that  occurred  on  the  night  of 
June  24th  that  might  reasonably  be  supposed  to 
have  led  up  to  the  shooting1?" 

"None  whatever.  I  will  go  further  and  say  that 
as  far  as  the  events  of  that  night  are  concerned, 
I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  you  are.  From  the 
little  that  Doris  has  told  me — for  I  have  not  ques- 
tioned her  as  you  have — and  from  what  I  have 
learned  from  the  papers — for,  since  you  were  here, 
I  have  read  every  word  of  the  testimony  that  was 
given  at  the  inquest — I  can  only  suppose  that  the 
unbelievable,  the  incredible  has  happened.  Even 
now,  I  tell  myself  that  it  cannot  be  true.  That 
it  is  all  a  dreadful  nightmare  from  which  I  must 
presently  awake !  I  can  no  more  account  for  the 
friendship  that  is  said  to  have  existed  between  my 
brother-in-law  and  that  man  Gerald  Trask  than 


132  ON  TRIAL 

I  can  account  for  the  presence  of  evil  in  the  world. 
How  May  could  have  permitted  such  a  relation 
to  begin,  passes  my  comprehension." 

"Then  you  knew  Gerald  Trask?" 

"Thank  God,  I  never  saw  him  in  my  life !  But 
I  knew  enough  of  him  without  ever  having  had 
to  see  him.  Let  me  tell  you  this,  and  I  can  speak 
as  one  having  authority.  Killing  was  too  good 
for  a  man  like  that.  He  should  have  been  tor- 
tured as  well.  And  even  then,  he  could  not  have 
suffered  enough  to  atone  for  all  the  agony  he  has 
caused  others." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  bitter  sincerity  of 
her  words.  And  I  was  also  convinced  that  she 
knew  as  little  of  the  events  of  the  night  of  June 
24th  as  I  did.  The  knowledge  that  she  possessed 
and  which  she  could  not  be  made  to  see  might  be 
of  the  highest  importance  to  me  as  Robert  Strick- 
land's counsel  had  to  do  with  some  event  or  events 
antedating  the  night  when  Trask  was  shot.  I 
rose  to  take  my  leave. 

"I  have  only  one  more  thing  to  ask,"  I  said. 
"If,  later  on,  I  could  convince  you  that  the  knowl- 
edge I  suspect  you  of  having  would  be  the  only 


GETTING  DORIS'S  STORY        133 

thing  that  could  save  the  life  of  Robert  Strickland, 
would  you  come  forward  ?" 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"Yes;  I  would  come  forward.  Believe  me,  it 
is  not  that  I  am  trying  to  spare  myself,  or  even 
that  I  am  trying  to  shield  others.  It  is  only  that 
I  am  sure  that  it  would  all  be  useless.  And," 
she  added,  "I  warn  you  that  I  am  very  hard  to 
convince/' 

"I  promise  that  I  will  only  call  upon  you  when 
all  else  fails." 

"If  all  else  fails,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  know. 
Then,  if  you  can  show  me  that  I  can  save  Robert, 
I  will." 

"It's  a  promise?' 

"It's  a  promise." 

And  with  that  I  had  to  content  myself. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A    CHILD    MY    STAR    WITNESS 

THE  next  few  weeks  were  in  a  way  as  busy  as  any 
I  had  ever  known.  I  had  arranged  with  my  de- 
tective agency  that  I  should  have  a  report,  either 
written  or  verbal,  from  them  each  night  in  regard 
to  whatever  progress  they  might  make  in  their 
search  for  the  missing  man  who  was  supposed  to 
have  actually  taken  the  money  from  the  safe. 
Night  after  night,  it  was  the  same  story.  There 
was  nothing  to  report.  Granting  that  he  had 
ever  existed,  he  had  disappeared,  leaving  no  faint- 
est clue  behind  him. 

I  was  yet  to  be  convinced  that  there  had  ever 
been  such  a  person.  But  I  was  fully  aware  that 
my  personal  convictions  would  have  slight  weight 
with  a  jury  in  the  face  of  the  testimony  that  I 
knew  Mrs.  Trask  would  give.  It  seemed  to  be 
an  incontrovertible  fact  that  some  one  had  at- 
tacked Mrs.  Trask,  had  strangled  her  into  a  state 
of  semi-consciousness  and  smothered  her  with  the 

134 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     135- 

table-scarf.  It  would  hardly  help  my  case  to 
suggest  that  Strickland  had  done  so.  Besides,  I 
knew  that  to  be  impossible. 

Everywhere  I  turned,  I  seemed  to  arrive  at  a 
stone  wall.  What  light  could  not  Mrs.  Strick- 
land have  thrown  on  the  matter!  But  she  had 
vanished  as  completely  as  if  the  earth  had  swal- 
lowed her,  to  employ  a  somewhat  trite  figure  of 
speech. 

What  had  she  been  to  Trask?  Had  I  been 
able  to  answer  that  question,  I  would  have  pos- 
sessed the  key  to  the  whole  riddle.  And  the  one 
person  who  seemed  to  be  able  to  answer  that  ques- 
tion for  me,  was  her  sister,  who,  without  taking 
me  into  her  confidence,  declared  that  anything  she 
might  say  would  only  make  things  blacker  for  my 
client. 

True,  I  had  her  promise  that  if  all  else  failed, 
she  would  place  the  facts  in  her  possession  at  my 
service.  That  it  might  then  be  too  late  did  not 
seem  to  occur  to  her. 

And  certainly  nothing  could  be  more  hopeless 
than  attempting  to  get  anything  out  of  my  client. 
When  I  pointed  out  to  him  that  the  course  he  was 


136  ON  TRIAL 

pursuing  was  nothing  short  of  suicidal,  his  only 
comment  was  to  say  that  his  life  had  no  value  in 
his  eyes.  He  did  not  fear  death.  He  welcomed 
it,  on  the  contrary.  Even  the  brutal  reminder 
that  the  death  which  he  seemed  to  be  courting  was 
a  disgraceful  one,  that  for  all  time  his  name  would 
be  associated  in  the  minds  of  men  with  all  that 
was  dishonourable,  even  cowardly,  since  he  had 
taken  his  victim  by  surprise  without  giving  him  a 
chance  to  defend  himself,  left  him  perfectly  un- 
moved. 

On  one  phase  of  the  case,  and  one  only,  was  he 
in  the  least  communicative.  He  assured  me  with 
an  earnestness  and  sincerity  that  I  could  not  doubt, 
that  to  the  best  of  his  knowledge  there  had  been 
no  one  present  but  himself  and  Mrs.  Trask  when 
he  fired  the  fatal  shot  at  Trask.  He,  also,  had 
not  seen  the  so-called  "accomplice." 

The  only  thing  that  led  him  to  believe  that  he 
had  ever  existed  was  that  when  he  entered  the 
library  he  had  found  Mrs.  Trask  lying  on  the 
floor,  her  head  enveloped  in  some  sort  of  a  cloth. 
This  had  puzzled  him  for  the  moment.  But  the 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     137 

entrance  of  Trask  from  his  bedroom  had  taken 
his  attention  from  the  semi-conscious  woman,  and 
it  was  only  when  I  began  to  question  him  that  the 
incident  recurred  to  his  mind.  It  must  be  borne 
in  mind  that  he  had  never  met  Mrs.  Trask.  But 
his  natural  inference  that  it  was  she,  had  been 
justified  by  the  facts  which  I  retailed  to  him  in 
the  course  of  our  several  interviews. 

His  arm  was  still  excessively  painful.  Glover's 
stick  must  have  indeed  been  a  stout  one,  or  he 
was  more  muscular  than  one  would  have  gathered 
from  his  appearance.  Most  of  the  time  when 
I  was  with  him,  he  passed  lying  on  his  cot  with 
his  eyes  closed.  But  there  were  times  when  he 
was  in  such  pain  that  remaining  quiescent  seemed 
to  be  impossible.  Upon  such  occasions,  he  would 
pace  back  and  forth  in  his  cell  until  the  pain  ex- 
hausted itself. 

His  manner  to  me  was  always  courteous  in  the 
extreme.  Not  that  he  took  any  pains  to  hide 
from  me  that  in  my  official  capacity,  I  was  only 
tolerated  because  he  knew  of  no  way  of  forbidding 
my  visits.  He  persisted  in  his  declaration  that 


138  ON  TRIAL 

he  did  not  wish  to  be  defended.  Even  if  he  had 
wished  for  my  services,  what  possible  good  could 
it  do? 

He  had  killed  Gerald  Trask.  He  admitted 
doing  so.  There  was  at  least  one  witness  to  the 
murder.  Why  all  this  red-tape  and  delay  ?  He 
went  so  far  as  to  ask  me  how  long  after  his  con- 
viction it  would  probably  be  before  he  could  hope 
to  be  sentenced.  For  the  moment,  I  was  unable 
to  make  proper  allowance  for  the  man's  condition. 
His  arm  must  have  been  giving  him  greater  pain 
than  usual,  as  during  my  entire  visit  he  had  been 
pacing  up  and  down  his  cell,  a  thing  which  I  had 
never  known  him  to  keep  up  so  long  before — and 
I  confess  I  took  a  cruel  pleasure  in  pointing  out 
to  him  that  that  "being  sentenced,"  as  he  called 
it,  was  little  more  than  an  empty  formality  with 
us  nowadays;  that  I  thought  he  could  safely 
count  upon  at  least  a  couple  of  years'  respite  pend- 
ing the  various  appeals  et  csetera,  with  which  I 
purposed  impeding  the  progress  of  Justice. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  look  he  gave  me! 
But  I  was  sufficiently  contrite  and  ashamed  of 
myself  without  that,  the  moment  the  words  had 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     139 

left  my  lips.  It  is  not  often  that  I  lose  my  tem- 
per so  completely.  Still,  and  not  entirely  in  ex- 
tenuation of  my  own  lack  of  self-control,  I  sub- 
mit that,  to  put  it  mildly,  Robert  Strickland  was 
a  most  unusual  and  difficult  client. 

It  was  clear  that  the  only  persons  upon  whom 
I  could  depend  were  Doris  and  Burke,  with  Mrs. 
Stanwood  as  a  last  resort  when  all  else  failed. 
Not  a  very  satisfactory  state  of  affairs  it  must  be 
admitted.  Still  Burke's  story  and  the  child's 
fitted  into  one  another  in  a  most  convincing  man- 
ner. I  could  certainly  establish  beyond  a  reason- 
able doubt  the  intrigue  carried  on  between  Gerald 
Trask  and  the  wife  of  his  friend. 

That  it  had  been  going  on  for  some  little  time 
seemed  probable  from  the  cynical  effrontery  with 
which  they  appeared  to  have  carried  it  off.  They 
pretended  never  to  have  met.  Mrs.  Trask  had 
testified  to  the  fact  that  when  she  asked  her  hus- 
band on  the  night  of  his  death  what  Mrs.  Strick- 
land was  like,  if  she  were  "nice"  and  if  she  were 
"pretty,"  or  words  to  that  effect,  he  had  carelessly 
replied  that  he  couldn't  tell  her  since  he  had  never 
seen  the  lady  in  question.  And  it  was  morally 


140  ON  TRIAL 

certain  that  they  had  been  together  in  Long 
Branch  only  the  day  before. 

Again,  when  in  response  to  Strickland's  tele- 
gram, Trask  had  gone  to  the  house,  Strickland  had 
presented  his  false  friend  to  his  wife  saying  that 
he  wanted  them  to  know  one  another,  and  regret- 
ting that  Trask  had  to  hurry  away.  I  repeat  that, 
to  my  mind,  those  two  little  incidents  stamped 
them  both  as  being  practised  in  duplicity.  It  was 
hardly  a  surprise  to  hear  of  Trask' s  action.  His 
reputation,  as  I  think  I  have  mentioned,  was  such 
as  to  prepare  one  for  any  underhanded  dealings 
on  his  part  where  women  were  concerned.  But  I 
confess  I  was  astonished  at  the  light  in  which 
Mrs.  Strickland  appeared. 

All  that  I  had  been  able  to  learn  of  her  stamped 
her  as  a  quiet,  refined  woman  of  distinctly  domes- 
tic tastes,  wholly  and  entirely  devoted  to  her  hus- 
band and  child.  All  of  which  only  went  to  show 
that  she  had  succeeded  in  deceiving  her  friends 
and  acquaintances  as  completely  as  she  had  her 
trusting  husband.  This  being  the  condition  of 
affairs,  I  was  able  to  understand  one  thing  which 
had  puzzled  me  considerably  hitherto.  And  that 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     141 

was  the  matter  of  the  loan  of  the  ten  thousand 
dollars. 

While  Trask's  business  reputation  was  as  good 
as  his  personal  reputation  was  bad,  I  had  heard 
him  criticised  for  a  certain  hardness  in  his  busi- 
ness dealings  with  even  his  closest  friends.  That 
he  should  have  consented  to  make  so  large  a  loan 
to  a  man  whose  affairs  seemed  to  be  in  the  parlous 
state  that  Strickland's  evidently  were  at  the  time 
of  the  giving  of  the  note,  had  never  seemed  con- 
sistent with  his  ordinary  policy  and  methods* 
Certainly  Strickland  could  hardly  have  been  in  a 
position  to  offer  any  great  amount  of  security  for 
the  money  advanced. 

But  Gerald  Trask  was  just  the  sort  of  man  to 
whom  a  situation  of  this  sort  would  have  an  extra 
appeal.  To  wear  the  mask  of  a  disinterested  and 
generous  friend  while  carrying  on  an  underhand 
and  vulgar  intrigue,  would  have  gratified  his 
mordant  sense  of  humour,  would  no  doubt  have 
added  just  the  sauce  necessary  to  keep  him  inter- 
ested in  going  on  with  it. 

Yes,  every  part  of  the  unsavoury  affair  that  had 
to  do  with  Trask  seemed  thoroughly  consistent 


142  ON  TRIAL 

with  his  reputation.  But  I  found  it  almost  as 
difficult  to  reconcile  Mrs.  Strickland  to  her  role  as 
I  did  to  believe  that  her  husband  was  a  thief. 

Granted  that  she  was  infatuated  with  Trask; 
granted  that  her  love  for  her  husband  was  all  a 
pretence;  or,  attributing  to  her  the  meanest  and 
most  sordid  motives  rising  out  of  a  desire  for  lux- 
uries that  her  husband  could  no  longer  provide  for 
her,  granted  any  or  all  of  these  things,  how  explain 
the  fact  that  a  woman  so  skilled  in  deception 
should  suddenly  go  all  to  pieces  and  lose  her  head 
as  completely  as  she  had  apparently  done  on  the 
night  of  her  husband's  return. 

Long  Branch  is  not  such  a  great  distance  that 
there  would  be  anything  necessarily  remarkable  in 
a  woman's  choosing  to  run  down  there  for  a  day. 
There  are  many  people  who  go  there  even  earlier 
in  the  season  than  the  end  of  June,  not  to  men- 
tion the  large  number  of  persons  who  live  there 
the  year  round. 

And  yet  a  person  as  fertile  in  resource  as  Mrs. 
Strickland  must  necessarily  have  been  is  suddenly 
paralysed  with  fright  at  the  apparition  of  a  good- 
natured,  middle-aged  Irishman  who  comes  to  re- 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     143 

store  to  her  the  purse  she  has  lost,  and  for  which 
she  has  frantically  been  telephoning  at  least  twice 
that  very  day. 

To  be  sure  the  purse  contained  the  compromis- 
ing address  of  the  Trask  house.  Burke  had 
blurted  that  out.  But  that  was  not  until  he  had 
been  at  the  house  for  some  little  time.  And  he 
had  said  that  Mrs.  Strickland  had  "looked 
scared"  from  the  moment  that  he  came  into  the 
room. 

Nothing  could  have  occurred  earlier  in  the 
evening  to  arouse  her  husband's  suspicions.  Doris 
had  said  that  neither  her  father  nor  Mr.  Trask  had 
been  at  all  angry  about  anything.  They  had 
apparently  chatted  for  some  little  time  in  a 
friendly  manner.  And  just  as  Trask  had  been  on 
the  point  of  leaving,  Strickland  had  presented  him 
to  his  wife. 

Why  had  not  the  woman  frankly  said  that  she 
had  suddenly  taken  it  into  her  head  to  run  down 
to  the  seaside  for  the  afternoon — there  were  a 
dozen  of  excuses  she  might  have  thought  of  to  ex- 
plain the  impulse — that  she  had  in  some  manner 
lost  her  purse,  and  claimed  it  as  soon  as  Burke 


144  ON  TRIAL 

made  his  errand  known'?  Burke  would  have  gone 
away  satisfied.  The  chances  were  a  thousand  to 
one  against  his  having  mentioned  going  to  the 
other  house  in  search  of  the  owner,  and  even  if 
he  had,  he  would  hardly  have  gone  into  the  par- 
ticulars of  the  address.  By  this  simple  and 
natural  action  she  would  have  had  the  purse  and 
whatever  articles  it  might  have  contained  which 
she  did  not  wish  her  husband  to  see. 

And  there  was  still  another  thing  to  be  ex- 
plained. That  was  the  attitude  of  Mrs.  Stan- 
wood.  I  think  I  have  said  that  I  prided  my- 
self upon  being  a  good  judge  of  character.  While 
Mrs.  Stanwood  impressed  me  as  a  woman  whom 
life  had  treated  -harshly,  and  who  was  embittered 
in  consequence,  if  there  was  one  impression  that 
she  gave  me  more  than  another,  it  was  that  she 
was  more  than  commonly  austere.  That  such  a 
woman  should  countenance  anything  like  an  in- 
trigue between  her  sister  and  Gerald  Trask,  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  believe. 

And  yet  she  knew  all  about  Trask.  She  had 
spoken  of  him  to  me  with  extraordinary  vehe- 
mence. She  had  spoken  of  her  sister  with  every 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     145 

indication  of  affection  and  sympathy;  had  alluded 
to  a  mysterious  shock  which  she  had  had  long 
ago,  but  had  given  me  every  reason  to  understand 
that  all  her  troubles  were  a  thing  of  the  past. 
She  had  declared  that  she  had  been  amazed  to 
learn  that  Gerald  Trask  and  Robert  Strickland 
were  on  terms  of  friendship,  and  that  she  knew 
absolutely  nothing  that  might  in  any  way  have 
led  up  to  the  events  of  the  night  of  June  24th. 
And  she  and  her  sister  were  on  intimate  terms  and 
saw  each  other  frequently. 

How  McLean  and  I  threshed  the  matter  back 
and  forth !  Night  after  night,  when  his  work  was 
done,  he  would  join  me  in  my  study  and  we  would 
go  over  the  whole  ground  with  as  much  zest  as  if 
the  thing  had  happened  only  the  day  before  and 
this  was  the  first  time  we  had  discussed  it.  We 
would  take  turns  in  trying  to  convince  each  other 
of  the  most  impossible  suppositions.  An  exercise 
by  no  means  as  childish  as  it  sounds.  Indeed,  for 
keeping  the  mind  elastic  and  alert  I  know  of 
nothing  more  beneficial  than  debate,  unless  it  be 
the  ancient  game  £>f  Draughts,  in  which,  unfor- 
tunately McLean  was  never  able  to  interest  him- 


146  ON  TRIAL 

self,  possibly  for  the  reason  that  he  could  never 
acquire  any  degree  of  proficiency  at  it. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  I  thought  that  I  detected  unmistakable  signs 
of  age  in  McLean.  I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  say 
that  his  mental  powers  actually  showed  symptoms 
of  decay — although  I  found  him  more  ob- 
stinately tenacious  of  his  own  ideas  than  I  had 
ever  before  known  him  to  be — but  he  seemed  to 
have  lost  much  of  his  sense  of  proportion. 

For  example,  while  he  professed  to  feel  nothing 
but  profound  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate  Strick- 
land, he  seemed  to  regard  the  saving  of  his  life  as 
a  matter  of  comparative  unimportance,  a  sort  of 
incident  in  the  case.  The  theft  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  was  the  important  thing.  And  he 
was  perfectly  obsessed  with  the  notion  that  Mrs. 
Trask,  and  no  one  else,  had  taken  it,  or  could  have 
taken  it. 

The  assault?  There  was  nothing  to  it.  She 
had  been  frightened  before  she  had  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  close  the  safe,  by  the  entrance  of  Strick- 
land. She  it  was  who  had  snatched  the  table 
cover  and  thrown  it  over  her  own  head.  She  had 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     147 

then  dropped  to  the  floor  and  pretended  to  be  un- 
conscious, as  she  was  when  Strickland  had  had  his 
brief  glimpse  of  her. 

Of  course  this  disposed  of  the  accomplice. 
Had  Strickland  seen  him?  Had  Glover  seen 
him?  Had  even  Trask  seen  him?  To  all  of 
these  questions  he  answered  "No!"  He  ex- 
plained the  last  statement  rather  cleverly  by  say- 
ing that  it  seemed  a  bit  unlikely  that  a  man  enter- 
ing a  room  and  seeing  his  wife  struggling  with  a 
strange  man  would  first  stop  to  answer  the  tele- 
phone before  going  to  her  assistance. 

I  confess  that  I  found  it  extremely  difficult  to 
refute  this  line  of  argument.  I  contented  myself 
with  pointing  out  that  the  whole  thing  was  of 
secondary  importance.  A  fact  which  he  could 
not  be  brought  to  see,  or  at  least  to  acknowl- 
edge. 

And  so  in  the  end  we  had  to  come  back  to  Doris. 
My  heart  sank  at  the  thought  of  the  task  I  had  be- 
fore me.  She  would  be  my  star  witness.  I  must 
go  over  and  over  the  story  with  her;  must  try  to 
make  her  see  what  was  important  and  what  was 
not;  must  drill  her,  harry  her,  worry  her,  torment 


148  ON  TRIAL 

her,  until  for  all  time  the  very  sound  of  my  name 
would  be  hateful  in  her  ears.  A  pleasant  task, 
truly !  But  it  had  to  be  done. 

I  had  anticipated  having  to  combat  her  aunt's 
opposition.  But  to  my  surprise,  beyond  regret- 
ting with  me  the  harsh  necessity  which  compelled 
me  to  adopt  such  a  course,  she  offered  no  objection 
to  it. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  those  trying  hours. 
She  always  broke  down  and  wept  as  she  neared  the 
end.  If  anything,  her  terror  when  she  came  to 
describe  the  sound  she  had  heard  through  the 
telephone,  seemed  to  increase  as  time  went  by. 
More  than  once,  I  was  on  the  point  of  abandon- 
ing the  idea  of  calling  her  at  all.  But  what  be- 
came of  my  case  without  her*?  Could  anything 
else  but  his  child's  story  save  the  father's  life?  I 
thought  not. 

Then  I  had  to  accustom  her  to  the  idea  of  re- 
peating the  whole  thing  before  people,  before 
strangers.  A  thousand  times  I  reminded  her  that 
it  was  all  to  help  her  father.  It  was  touching  to 
see  how  that  thought  alone  sustained  her  and 
spurred  her  flagging  courage. 


A  CHILD  MY  STAR  WITNESS     149 

With  her  aunt's  permission,  I  brought  her  home 
with  me  to  luncheon  one  day,  and  succeeded  in 
persuading  her  later  in  the  afternoon  to  tell  her 
story  before  McLean.  After  that,  I  was  less  fear- 
ful. To  be  sure  there  were  days  when  she  seemed 
actually  unable  to  recall  little  incidents  which  she 
had  remembered  perfectly  only  the  day  before. 
Fortunately  the  day  appointed  for  the  trial  of  the 
case  was  not  far  off.  Otherwise,  I  should  have 
been  fearful  of  a  nervous  breakdown  overtaking 
my  star  witness. 

The  day  before  the  trial,  she  took  me  for  the 
long  promised  walk  on  Riverside  Drive.  I  had 
promised  her  that  we  would  not  even  speak  of  the 
dread  subject.  But  as  we  were  coming  home,  she 
introduced  it  herself. 

"Mr.  Arbuckle,  if  I  get  really  and  truly  fright- 
ened and  forget  that  I  am  being  a  help  to  my 
daddy,  will  you  hold  up  your  finger  like  this  to 
remind  me?"  She  held  up  the  middle  finger  of 
her  left  hand,  the  other  fingers  closed. 

"I  certainly  will,  my  dear,"  I  promised. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  forget,  but  I  may,  if  I  get 
frightened,  you  know." 


150  ON  TRIAL 

"There's  nothing  to  be  frightened  about,"  I 
assured  her. 

But  I  prepared  for  the  morrow  with  as  heavy  a 
heart  as  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  Once  get  the 
robbery  motive  out  of  the  heads  of  the  Jury,  and 
we  had  a  chance.  But  I  didn't  yet  see  just  how 
that  was  to  be  done. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE 

FOR  even  the  two  days  while  the  District  Attorney 
and  I  had  been  wrangling  over  the  choice  of  Jury- 
men, the  court  room  had  been  crowded  to  the 
doors.  To  my  astonishment,  a  large  part  of  the 
assemblage  was  made  up  of  women.  Many  of 
them  were  aristocratic  looking,  even  refined.  I 
learned  later  that  a  number  of  the  leaders  of  so- 
ciety were  present.  For  some  obscure  reason,  the 
trial  was  the  fashion. 

I  could  not  account  for  this  on  the  ground  of  the 
social  position  of  the  Trasks.  And  certainly,  the 
Stricklands  made  no  pretensions  to  mingling  with 
the  great  world.  While  the  former  had  enjoyed 
a  position  in  society  good  in  its  way,  they  had 
never  aspired — or  if  they  had  done  so,  they  could 
have  scarcely  been  said  to  have  realised  their 
dream — to  a  position  in  the  so-called  Four  Hun- 
dred. 

But,  be  that  as  it  may,  wealth  and  fashion  were 
151 


152  ON  TRIAL 

well  represented,  and  hundreds  of  those  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  be  without  any  especial  influence 
were  reported  to  have  been  turned  away. 

His  Honour,  Judge  Dinsmore,  whose  reputa- 
tion for  impartiality  and  fairness  is  equalled  only 
by  his  reputation  for  a  profound  knowledge  of 
the  law,  presided. 

The  third  day  of  the  trial  found  us  well  before 
noon  with  the  Jury  Box  at  last  filled.  I  heard  the 
Judge  pronounce  the  words :  "You  may  proceed, 
Mr.  Gray,"  with  a  feeling  of  infinite  relief.  At 
last,  we  were  to  begin. 

Mr.  Gray,  the  District  Attorney,  rose  slowly  to 
his  feet.  As  he  paused  a  moment  before  begin- 
ning his  address,  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  have  had 
occasion  to  say  before,  that  an  imposing  and  dig- 
nified presence  is  a  tremendous  asset  before  a  Jury. 
I  realised  that  the  greatest  battle  of  my  life  lay  be- 
fore me. 

"So  be  it,"  said  I  to  myself,  "and  may  the  just 


cause  win !" 


And  then  the  District  Attorney  began. 
"May  it  please  the  Court:     Gentlemen  of  the 
Jury,  this  case  is  a  very  simple  one.     The  facts, 


THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      153 

as  they  have  appeared  from  time  to  time  in  the 
newspapers,  are  no  doubt  familiar  to  all  of  you. 
In  order  to  refresh  your  recollections,  however,  I 
will  outline  very  briefly  the  circumstances  which 
we  shall  put  in  evidence. 

"Mr.  Gerald  Trask,  as  you  know,  was  a  prom- 
inent banker  of  this  city.  He  was  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  community,  and  occupied  impor- 
tant places  in  the  social  and  financial  worlds. 
Among  Mr.  Trask' s  acquaintances  was  Robert 
Strickland,  the  defendant.  At  the  time  they  be- 
came acquainted,  Strickland  was  a  rather  prosper- 
ous business  man,  and  he  and  Mr.  Trask  fre- 
quently met. 

"Some  months  ago,  Strickland  began  to  have 
business  troubles.  The  cause  of  these  difficulties 
does  not  concern  us,  gentlemen.  But  what  does 
interest  us  is  that  Strickland,  becoming  more  and 
more  involved,  found  it  necessary  to  go  to  his 
friend,  Gerald  Trask,  for  financial  assistance. 

"Mr.  Trask  responded  with  his  habitual  gener- 
osity, and  promptly  loaned  Strickland  ten  thou- 
sand dollars,  taking  the  latter^  note  as  security. 
But  Strickland's  business  did  not  improve,  and 


154  ON  TRIAL 

he  decided  to  migrate  to  the  West.  The  note  was 
payable  on  the  22nd  of  June,  two  days  before  the 
murder.  When  the  22nd  arrived,  Strickland  was 
in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  making  arrangements  for  him- 
self and  family.  He  returned,  however,  on  the 
24th,  the  night  of  the  murder,  sent  for  Mr.  Trask, 
and  took  up  the  note. 

"I  call  your  attention  to  the  fact,  gentlemen, 
that  Strickland  paid  the  debt  in  cash.  He  was  a 
business  man.  He  did  not  pay  it  in  check  or  by 
draft,  but  in  cash !  Ten  thousand  dollars  in  cash ! 
Mr.  Trask  had  offered  to  let  the  loan  stand  until 
Strickland  should  be  on  his  feet  again.  But 
Strickland  wouldn't  hear  of  it. 

"You  will  understand  his  eagerness  to  cancel  the 
debt  in  a  moment,  gentlemen.  It  was  because  he 
had  evolved  a  little  plan  whereby  he  could  wipe 
out  the  obligation  without  it  costing  him  a  cent. 
The  scheme  was  simple  enough,  gentlemen. 

"He  knew  very  well  that  Mr.  Trask  would  have 
to  keep  the  ten  thousand  dollars  in  his  house  over 
night,  and  that  he  would  almost  certainly  lock  it 
up  in  the  safe  in  his  library.  And  what  is  more, 
gentlemen,  he  knew  the  combination  to  Mr. 


THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      155 

Trask' s  safe.  Bear  in  mind  that  only  two  people 
knew  the  combination  to  that  safe — Gerald  Trask 
and  Strickland. 

"But  Strickland  hadn't  the  nerve  to  do  the  job 
alone,  so  he  called  in  an  assistant.  Accordingly, 
he  and  his  accomplice  entered  Mr.  Trask's  house  a 
few  hours  after  Strickland  had  paid  over  the 
money.  The  accomplice  went  to  work  on  the 
safe  and  Strickland  stood  guard.  The  profes- 
sional burglar  succeeded  without  much  difficulty 
in  opening  the  safe  and  extracting  the  ten  thou- 
sand dollars,  while  Strickland  superintended  the 
job.  Before  they  could  escape,  however,  they 
were  interrupted,  first  by  Mrs.  Trask  and  then 
by  her  husband. 

"The  accomplice  made  a  hasty  exit,  taking  the 
plunder  with  him.  That  was  the  last  that  was 
heard  of  the  accomplice,  gentlemen.  Who  he  is, 
or  where  he  went,  we  have  been  unable  to  learn. 

"But  Mr.  Strickland  was  caught  red-handed, 
and  believing,  evidently,  that  dead  men  tell  no 
tales,  he  shot  and  killed  his  friend  and  benefactor, 
Gerald  Trask,  in  cold  blood. 

"There  you  have  the  story,  gentlemen.     Mrs. 


156  ON  TRIAL 

Trask,  the  widow  of  the  murdered  man,  will  tell 
it  to  you  in  detail.  Her  testimony  will  be  cor- 
roborated by  Mr.  Stanley  Glover,  Mr.  Trask's 
secretary. 

"Thanks  to  his  bravery,  the  assassin  was  dis- 
armed and  captured.  It  is  Mr.  Glover  who  has 
given  us  material  assistance  in  linking  up  the  chain 
of  evidence  against  the  defendant.  I  call  your 
attention  to  the  fact  that  not  one  of  the  acts  is 
disputed.  Strickland,  realising  the  futility  of  in- 
terposing a  defence,  has  refused — " 

I  was  on  my  feet  at  that. 

"I  object  to  that." 

"Counsel  will  not  interrupt." 

And  Gray  continued.  "Strickland,  I  say,  has 
refused  to  make  any  effort  to  defend  himself. 
When  he  was  arraigned — " 

Again  I  made  an  objection  only  to  be  over- 
ruled once  more. 

"Counsel  will  not  interrupt." 

"When  he  was  arraigned,"  continued  the  Dis- 
trict Attorney,  "he  pleaded  guilty  to  the  indict- 
ment of  murder  in  the  first  degree.  Perhaps, 
gentlemen,  you  ask,  if  this  be  so,  why  are  we  here*? 


THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      157 

Why  is  the  County  put  to  the  expense  of  this 
trial  ?  An  expense  which  we  taxpayers  must  meet 
in  the  end.  Why  must  you  business  men  be  taken 
from  your  occupations'?  Why  must  you  be  com- 
pelled to  lose  your  valuable  time*?  Why  is  not 
the  penalty  allotted  to  murderers  inflicted  upon 
the  defendant? 

"And  in  answer  to  that,  I  say  to  you,  because, 
gentlemen,  the  State  is  jealous  of  the  lives  of  her 
citizens.  To  Her,  the  existence  of  an  individual 
is  sacred,  no  matter  if  he  be  depraved,  degenerate, 
possessed  of  criminal  instincts,  dangerous  to  so- 
ciety. She  will  not  permit  even  a  self-confessed 
murderer  to  be  put  to  death  until  twelve  of  his  fel- 
low citizens,  sitting  in  solemn  judgment,  calmly, 
dispassionately  hearing  and  weighing  the  facts, 
have  decreed  that  that  man  shall  suffer  the  conse- 
quences of  his  crime. 

"That  is  why  we  are  here  to-day,  gentlemen. 
That  is  why  His  Honour  has  assigned  such  dis- 
tinguished counsel  to  defend  Strickland.  And 
that  is  why,  before  we  ask  you  to  visit  upon  this 
defendant  the  punishment  he  merits,  we  shall,  by 
the  unimpeachable  testimony  of  eye-witnesses, 


158  ON  TRIAL 

convince  you  of  his  guilt  beyond  the  peradventure 
of  a  doubt. 

"Unfortunately,  his  partner  in  crime  has  made 
good  his  escape.  But  the  greater  criminal  is  in 
our  hands,  gentlemen.  We  can  make  him  pay  the 
penalty  of  the  law.  I  shall  take  up  no  more  of 
your  time.  The  facts  will  speak  for  themselves." 

The  District  Attorney  resumed  his  seat.  I 
could  tell  without  looking  at  the  Jury  that  he  had 
produced  a  tremendous  effect.  He  enjoyed  no 
mean  reputation  as  an  orator.  Every  one,  in- 
cluding myself,  had  expected  that  he  would  seize 
the  occasion  to  give  us  the  finest  example  of  his 
talent.  Certainly  he  could  not  hope  to  have  the 
opportunity,  soon  again,  for  displaying  it  before 
so  brilliant  and  distinguished  an  audience. 

But  with  a  shrewdness  and  self-control,  for 
which  I  confess  I  had  not  given  him  credit,  he  had 
refrained  from  gratifying  what  I  might  call  the 
more  personal  side  of  his  vanity.  No  flowers  of 
oratory  could  have  served  his  ultimate  purpose  as 
well  as  the  plain  matter-of-fact  tone  that  he  had 
elected  to  adopt.  It  was  as  if  he  disdained  to 
employ  his  great  gifts  in  a  case  so  palpably  simple. 


THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      159 

As  I  rose  to  address  the  Jury  in  my  turn,  I  glanced 
at  my  client  to  see,  if  possible,  what  effect  Mr. 
Gray's  speech  had  had  on  him. 

One  would  have  said  that  he  had  not  even 
heard  it.  He  sat  with  his  head  on  his  chest  and 
his  eyes  half  closed.  His  attitude  was  almost 
identical  with  that  he  had  preserved  during  the 
inquest.  I  doubt  if  any  one  in  that  crowded 
court  room  took  as  little  interest  in  the  proceed- 
ings as  he. 

"If  the  Court  pleases :  Gentlemen  of  the 
Jury,"  I  began.  "When  His  Honour  assigned  me 
to  the  defence  of  this  case,  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  prosecution's  theory  was  untenable. 

"I  knew  Mr.  Strickland  by  reputation,  and  I 
scouted  the  burglary  hypothesis.  This  belief 
strengthened  as  I  became  better  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Strickland.  A  man  of  superlative  honour 
and  integrity,  equipped  with  a  splendid  mentality 
and  an  excellent  reputation,  not  addicted  to  bad 
habits  or  expensive  luxuries,  devotedly  attached 
to  his  wife  and  child — that  is  not  the  sort  of  man 
who  breaks  into  his  friend's  house  for  the  purpose 
of  theft. 


160  ON  TRIAL 

"The  case  seemed  to  me  to  be  not  nearly  so  clear 
and  simple  as  my  friend  Mr.  Gray  makes  it  out 
to  be.  But,  despite  my  certainty  that  there 
lurked  a  mystery  in  this  grim  affair,  I  could  learn 
nothing  that  would  aid  me  in  substantiating  my 
belief. 

"As  my  friend  has  told  you,  Mr.  Strickland  has 
maintained  throughout  an  obstinate,  unbreakable 
silence.  In  all  my  years  at  the  Bar,  gentlemen,  I 
have  never  before  encountered  any  one  who  has 
declined  so  resolutely  to  yield  to  persuasion. 
Threats,  entreaties  and  logic  alike  have  left  him 
indifferent. 

"At  last  I  reached  the  conclusion  that  Strick- 
land was  shielding  some  one — most  likely  the  un- 
known accomplice  who  assaulted  Mrs.  Trask  and 
broke  open  the  safe.  In  the  hope  of  learning  the 
identity  of  this  man,  and,  if  possible,  the  motive 
Strickland  had  in  shielding  him,  I  endeavoured  to 
locate  the  members  of  Strickland's  family. 

"Judge  of  my  surprise,  gentlemen,  when  I 
learned  that  the  defendant's  wife  had  disappeared 
from  her  home  on  the  night  of  the  tragedy,  and 
has  not  been  seen  nor  heard  from  since.  All  my 


THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      161 

attempts  to  find  her  have  been  fruitless.  I  have 
been  forced  to  believe" — I  spoke  the  words  slowly, 
looking  straight  at  Strickland  as  I  did  so — "that 
she  took  her  life." 

For  the  first  time  he  showed  emotion.  His 
breath  came  in  gasping  sobs.  His  free  hand  was 
clenched.  Tears  forced  their  way  from  beneath 
his  closed  eyelids.  I  could  not  believe  that  my 
statement  came  to  him  altogether  as  a  shock. 
That  is,  I  did  not  think  it  possible  that  he  had 
never  entertained  the  idea  himself.  Rather  was 
it  the  confirmation  of  his  own  secret  fear  that 
broke  down  at  last  his  stony  self-control. 

Heartless  as  the  statement  may  seem,  I  was 
glad  to  see  it.  Might  not  the  thought  of  his  child, 
now  alone  in  the  world  but  for  him,  impel  him  to 
make  a  tardy  fight  for  his  life*?  Might  he  not,  at 
the  eleventh  hour,  break  the  silence  he  had  so 
obstinately  maintained*?  And  I  had  yet  another 
blow  for  him.  One  that  I  felt  certain  would 
strike  him  in  the  heart !  I  felt  almost  as  much  of 
a  brute  as  I  did  when  dragging  her  story  from 
poor  little  Doris'  reluctant  lips,  or  when  patiently 
going  over  and  over  her  testimony  with  her  until 


162  ON  TRIAL 

it  should  be  in  a  form  in  which  it  could  be  pre- 
sented in  Court. 

"I  did  succeed,"  I  went  on,  speaking  slowly  and 
distinctly,  "in  finding  Doris,  the  little  daughter  of 
the  defendant.  When  you  have  heard  her  story, 
gentlemen,  you  will  agree  with  me  that  to-  send 
Strickland  to  his  death  would  be  a  gross  miscar- 
riage of  justice.  That  is  all  for  the  present,  gen- 
tlemen." 

I  had  not  miscalculated  the  effect  of  my  closing 
words.  At  the  mention  of  his  child's  name,  for 
the  first  time  Strickland  had  opened  his  eyes  fully. 
Amazement  and  indignation  were  in  his  face. 
The  glance  of  reproachful  scorn  that  he  gave  me 
would  have  seared  me,  had  I  not  felt  buttressed 
by  the  conviction  that  what  I  had  done,  and  was 
about  to  do,  was  for  the  best. 

The  last  word  had  hardly  fallen  from  my  lips 
before  he  was  on  his  feet.  Leaning  heavily 
against  the  table,  he  addressed  his  appeal  to  the 
Court. 

"Your  Honour,  I  won't  have  it!  I  won't  have 
my  little  girl  dragged  into  this  case.  I've  pleaded 


THE  STATE'S  STRONG  CASE      163 

guilty,"  he  went  on  with  growing  passion,  "and 
I'm  willing  to  suffer  the  consequences !" 

"Your  case  is  in  the  hands  of  your  counsel," 
said  Judge  Dinsmore.  There  was  both  sympathy 
and  understanding  in  his  voice. 

"I  don't  want  counsel!  I  have  no  defence! 
Why  don't  you  sentence  me*?  Why — " 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Gray,"  interrupted  the  Judge, 
sternly. 

"Your  Honour — "  began  Strickland  once  more. 

"Silence!"  thundered  the  Judge,  banging  with 
his  gavel. 

Strickland  sank  back  into  his  chair. 

"Call  Mrs.  Gerald  Trask,"  said  the  District 
Attorney. 


CHAPTER  X 

DORIS    CREATES    A    SENSATION 

IN  going  to  the  witness  stand,  Mrs.  Trask  did  what 
I  felt  sure  was  a  very  characteristic  thing.  It  was 
necessary,  unless  she  chose  to  make  a  somewhat 
wide  detour  which  could  not  have  failed  to  at- 
tract attention,  for  her  to  pass  close  beside  the 
table  where  the  defendant  was  sitting.  The  dig- 
nified course  would  have  been  to  have  chosen  the 
nearer  way,  without  paying  any  attention  to  the 
unhappy  man,  crouched  once  more  over  his 
table. 

But  Mrs.  Trask  saw  an  opportunity  to  indulge 
in  a  little  piece  of  theatricalism.  With  a  slow 
and  stately  step,  she  reached  Strickland's  side. 
For  a  long  moment  she  paused,  holding  back  her 
trailing  black  skirt  with  one  gloved  hand,  while 
she  swept  that  bowed  figure  with  one  of  those 
scorching  and  brilliant  glances  which  so  trans- 
formed her  face.  I  cannot  say  as  to  the  effect 
that  her  action  produced  upon  the  majority  of 

164 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     165 

those  who  noted  it,  but  I  felt  sure  that  all  deli- 
cately minded  people  would  condemn  it.  So 
much  the  better,  if  the  Jury  should  be  of  my  way 
of  thinking ! 

The  oath  having  been  administered,  the  District 
Attorney  began  his  examination. 
"What  is  your  name?" 
"Joan  Trask." 

"Mrs.  Trask,  are  you  the  widow  of  Gerald 
Trask?" 
"Yes,  sir." 

"How  long  were  you  married  to  Mr.  Trask?" 
"Almost  fifteen  years." 

I  could  see  that  this  answer  created  some  little 
surprise  among  those  persons  who  moved  in  the 
same  social  set  that  Mrs.  Trask  had  done.  Evi- 
dently they  had  not  been  present  at  the  inquest 
or  they  would  have  recalled  that  Mrs.  Trask  had 
then  admitted  that  her  marriage  had  for  family 
reasons  been  kept  secret  for  some  years. 

"Do  you  remember  the  night  of  June  24th?" 

"Indeed  I  do." 

"Where  were  you  on  that  evening?" 

"I  had  been  dining  out  with  friends." 


166  ON  TRIAL 

"What  time  did  you  arrive  home?" 

"About  half-past  nine." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Trask,  I  want  you  to  describe  to 
the  Court  and  Jury  everything  that  occurred  after 
you  arrived  home." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  go  over  her  testimony 
again.  In  substance  it  has  already  been  given,  at 
least,  in  so  far  as  her  account  of  the  murder  and 
the  events  preceding  it.  But  there  were  some 
things  of  interest  in  her  description  of  what  fol- 
lowed. She  had  just  finished  telling  of  how 
Glover  had  sent  for  the  doctor,  when  she  paused, 
as  if  waiting  for  a  further  question. 

Mr.  Gray  seeing  that  she  hesitated,  assisted  her 
by  asking: 

"Yes,  and  then?" 

"A  few  minutes  later,  the  police  arrived." 

"And  your  husband  was  dead  by  that  time?" 

"Yes.     He  died  instantly,  the  doctor  said." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Trask,  did  you  observe  the  safe  be- 
fore the  police  arrived?" 

We  were  coming  to  that  part  of  the  testimony 
which  I  had  so  much  reason  to  dread. 

"Yes;  the  safe  was  opened." 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION    167 

"Did  you  notice  if  any  of  the  contents  were 
missing?" 

"Yes,  sir.  The  ten  thousand  dollars  was 
gone." 

"That's  all,  Mrs.  Trask." 

"You  may  cross-examine  the  witness,  Mr.  Ar- 
buckle." 

He  flashed  a  glance  at  me  in  which  I  thought  I 
detected  a  gleam  of  triumph,  and  took  his  seat. 

"Mrs.  Trask,"  I  said  getting  slowly  on  my  feet, 
"did  you  recognise  your  assailant,  the  man  who 
opened  the  safe?" 

"No.  He  came  upon  me  so  quickly.  And  the 
room  was  in  total  darkness." 

"Are  you  sure  that  no  one  but  Mr.  Trask  knew 
the  combination  of  the  safe?" 

That  dangerous  gleam  flashed  across  her  face. 

"Mr.  Strickland  knew  it." 

"I  move  to  strike  out  that  answer  as  not  re- 
sponsive," I  said  calmly. 

Instantly  Gray  was  on  his  feet. 

"I—.     Your  Honour—" 

"The  motion  is  denied,"  ruled  Judge  Dinsmore. 

"I  respectfully  except.     Mrs.  Trask,  did  any 


168  ON  TRIAL 

words  pass  between  Strickland  and  your  assail- 
ant?' 

"I  cannot  be  sure.     There  was  a  ringing  in  my 
ears.     He  almost  strangled  me." 

"But,  to  the  best  of  your  knowledge,  they  did 
not  speak  to  each  other?" 

"I  can't  say  one  way  or  the  other." 

I  waited  a  moment. 

"Mrs.  Trask,"  I  said  slowly,  emphasising  my 
words,  "do  you  know  who  'May'  is*?" 

Mrs.  Trask  was  even  more  emphatic  in  her 
reply. 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not." 

"You  are  quite  sure?" 

"Perfectly  sure." 

I  said  that  I  had  no  further  questions. 

"That's  all,  Mrs.  Trask,"  said  Gray,  and  she 
left  the  stand. 

"Is  Dr.  Morgan  in  the  witness  room?"  asked 
the  District  Attorney. 

There  was  a  moment's  delay  while  one  of  the 
attendants  opened  a  door  leading  from  the  court 
room  and  called  Doctor  Morgan's  name. 

There  was  no  answer. 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     169 

"Your  Honour,"  explained  Gray,  "Dr.  Morgan 
is  the  physician  who  examined  Mr.  Trask's  body. 
He  told  me  that  he  might  be  detained." 

"Dr.  Morgan  is  not  here,"  announced  the  at- 
tendant. 

"With  Your  Honour's  permission,"  continued 
the  District  Attorney,  "I  will  call  Mr.  Glover,  in 
order  not  to  delay  the  trial." 

"Yes." 

"Call  Mr.  Stanley  Glover." 

"Stanley  Glover,"  called  the  attendant.  And 
young  Glover  came  into  the  court. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  Gray,  after 
Glover  had  taken  the  oath. 

"Stanley  Glover." 

"Mr.  Glover,  you  were  the  late  Gerald  Trask's 
private  secretary,  were  you  not?" 

"I  was,  sir." 

"On  the  night  of  June  the  24th,  after  you  left 
the  library  with  Mrs.  Trask's  books,  what  did  you 
do?" 

"I  went  upstairs  to  my  room." 

"Describe  what  occurred  then." 

"I  began  going  over  the  books.     About  half  an 


170  ON  TRIAL 

hour  later  I  heard  a  shot,  then  I  heard  Mrs.  Trask 
scream,  and  another  shot  fired.  I  picked  up  a 
heavy  cane  I  happened  to  have  in  my  room,  and 
rushed  downstairs  to  the  library.  Mr.  Trask's 
body  was  on  the  floor,  and  Strickland  was  stand- 
ing at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  with  a  revolver 
in  his  hand." 

'What  did  you  do?" 

"I  dashed  at  Strickland,  and  struck  his  arm  with 
the  cane.  He  dropped  the  revolver  and  fell  to 
the  floor." 

"When  you  entered  the  room,  did  you  see  any 
sign  of  the  other  man*?" 

"No,  sir.  The  French  windows  at  the  back  of 
the  room  were  open,  and  he  must  have  escaped 
that  way." 

"What  happened  then?" 

While  Mrs.  Trask  was  telephoning  for  the 
police,  I  kept  watch  on  Strickland.  Then  I  hap- 
pened to  remember  what  Mr.  Trask  had  said  about 
giving  Strickland  the  card  with  the  combination 
to  the  safe  on  it,  and  I  thought  that  he  might 
have  it  on  him,  and  that,  if  he  did,  it  would  prove 
of  value  to  the  police." 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     171 

"I  object  to  the  witness  stating  what  he 
thought,"  I  objected. 

"Yes;  strike  out  that  part  of  the  answer,"  or- 
dered the  Judge. 

The  stenographer  did  so. 

"Just  tell  what  you  did  and  saw,  Mr.  Glover." 

"Well,  I  began  to  search  Strickland's  pockets." 

"Was  that  before  the  police  arrived?" 

"Yes.  I  was  afraid  that  he  might  destroy  the 
card." 

I  sprang  to  my  feet.  I  did  not  propose  to  per- 
mit Mr.  Glover  to  employ  the  tactics  he  had  used 
at  the  inquest! 

"Your  Honour,  I  ask  that  the  witness  be  in- 
structed to  answer  the  questions  and  no  more." 

"Strike  out  the  answer,"  commanded  the  Judge. 

Then,  leaning  over  his  desk,  he  said  to  Glover 
in  a  kind  but  firm  tone : 

"You  must  confine  your  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions which  are  put  to  you.  You  are  not  to 
volunteer  anything,  and  you  are  not  to  tell  what 
passed  through  your  mind.  Is  that  clear?" 

"Yes,  Your  Honour." 

"Proceed,  Mr.  Gray." 


172  ON  TRIAL 

"Did  you  find  the  card  in  Strickland's  pocket?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Is  this  it?' 

He  passed  a  card  up  to  the  witness,  who  ex- 
amined it  carefully. 

"Yes." 

"I  offer  it  in  evidence,"  said  Gray,  repossessing 
himself  of  the  card.  He  then  addressed  himself 
to  the  Jury. 

"This  People's  exhibit  A.  is  a  visiting  card.  On 
the  face  is  engraved  in  old  English  type  the  name 
of  'Mr.  Gerald  Trask.'  Below  that  is  written  in 
pencil,  '206  Henderson  Place,  Long  Branch.'  On 
the  other  side  is  written  in  words  and  figures:  '14 
right  2,27,  left  3.'  Is  there  any  question  about  the 
handwriting,  Mr.  Arbuckle?" 

"You'd  better  prove  it,"  said  I  dryly. 

"Mr.  Glover,  are  you  familiar  with  Mr. 
Trask's  handwriting?" 

"Yes;  I  know  it  perfectly." 

"You've  seen  it  often  on  letters  and  docu- 
ments?" 

"Hundreds  of  times." 

He  handed  the  card  back  to  the  witness. 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     173 

"I  show  you  this  card  and  ask  you  whether  the 
address  '206  Henderson  Place,  Long  Branch,'  is 
in  Mr.  Trask's  writing." 

"It  is." 

"Now  turn  the  card,  please.  Are  the  words 
and  figures,  '14  right  2,27  left  3'  also  in  Mr. 
Trask's  writing?" 

"They  are." 

"There's  no  doubt  in  your  mind  about  that?" 

"Absolutely  none,"  said  the  witness  with  con- 
viction. 

"Do  you  know  the  significance  of  those  figures, 
'14  right  2,27  left  3'?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  is  it?" 

"It  is  the  combination  to  Mr.  Trask's  safe." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"When  the  police  arrived,  I  gave  them  this  card. 
We  locked  the  safe,  and  opened  it  with  this  com- 
bination." 

"Now,  Mr.  Glover,  I  call  your  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  card  is  torn  almost  in  half.  Can  you 
explain  how  that  occurred?" 

"Yes,  sir.     As  I  took  the  card  from  Strickland's 


174  ON  TRIAL 

pocket,  he  snatched  it  out  of  my  hand,  and  started 
to  tear  it  in  half.  Before  he  had  torn  it  all  the 
way,  I  managed  to  get  hold  of  it  again." 

I  did  not  cross-examine  the  witness. 

The  next  witness  was  Dr.  Morgan. 

"Dr.  Morgan,  in  what  condition  did  you  find 
Mr.  Trask's  body?' 

"I  found  two  bullet  wounds." 

"Describe  them,  please." 

"One  was  a  slight  flesh  wound  on  the  right 
shoulder  caused  by  a  grazing  bullet." 

"And  the  other?' 

"The  other  bullet  entered  the  body  just  above 
the  left  breast,  and  lodged  in  the  heart." 

"That's  all,  Dr.  Morgan." 

Again,  I  stated  that  I  had  no  cross-examina- 
tion. 

"That's  the  case  for  the  prosecution,  Your 
Honour." 

There  was  a  murmur,  possibly  of  surprise,  in 
the  court  room,  which  His  Honour  promptly 
checked.  I  heard  the  words: 

"Proceed  with  the  defence,  Mr.  Arbuckle." 

Strickland   may   have    thought    that   he    had 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     175 

drained  the  cup  of  bitterness  to  the  dregs,  but  I 
realised  that  one  of  the  bitterest  hours  of  his  life 
was  yet  to  come.  From  my  heart,  I  pitied  him ! 
But  it  was  the  only  way. 

"I'll  call  Miss  Doris  Strickland." 

_ 

The  effect  of  these  words  on  Strickland  was 
electric.  His  child  was,  apparently,  the  one  point 
at  which  he  might  be  said  to  be  still  vulnerable. 
I,  of  course,  understood  the  deeper  significance  of 
his  attitude.  It  was  not  only  his  child  but  his 
wife  that  he  was  willing  to  protect  even  at  the  sac- 
rifice of  going  to  a  dishonoured  grave,  not  only  as 
a  cold-blooded  murderer,  but  with  the  additional 
brand  of  a  thief.  That  was  what  I  deemed  it  my 
duty  to  prevent. 

He  stood  swaying  by  the  table  as  if  he  were  in- 
toxicated, as  he  pleaded  once  again  with  His 
Honour  not  to  let  me  carry  out  my  plan  for  his 
defence. 

"No,  Your  Honour,  no!  Not  that!  Don't 
let  her  testify.  She's  my  little  girl.  She  is  all 
I've  got  left.  Don't  let  her  testify !" 

For  the  moment,  even  Mrs.  Trask  might  have 
found  it  in  her  heart  to  pity  him.  But  I  saw  no 


176  ON  TRIAL 

sign  of  pity  in  her  cold  face  as  I  glanced  at  her. 

"You  must  leave  your  case  in  the  hands  of  your 
counsel,"  admonished  Judge  Dinsmore,  gently. 
"He  will  protect  your  interests." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  protected.  Protect  my 
little  girl.  Don't  bring  her  in  here." 

At  that  moment,  Doris  came  into  the  room, 
holding  the  hand  of  one  of  the  attendants.  Her 
eyes  sought  her  father.  When,  at  length,  she  saw 
him,  all  the  pretty  colour  left  her  face.  In  spite 
of  what  I  had  told  her  in  my  effort  to  prepare  her 
for  his  changed  appearance,  I  could  see  that  she 
was  stunned  at  the  havoc  which  the  weeks  had 
wrought. 

"May  I  speak  to  my  daddy?"  she  whispered,  as 
I  went  over  to  her. 

"Only  a  moment,  dear  child.  Remember  that 
you  are  going  to  be  a  brave  little  girl  and  answer 
all  my  questions  so  that  all  these  people  can  hear 
you.  You  and  I  are  the  only  two  persons  who 
can  help  your  father." 

"I'll  remember,"  she  promised. 

I  led  her  over  to  her  father's  side.  In  another 
second,  they  were  sobbing  in  each  other's  arms.  I 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     177 

waited  a  minute,  and  then  I  put  my  hand  on 
Strickland's  shoulder. 

"Come,  Strickland,  this  won't  do.  Come, 
Doris,  remember  your  promise,  come  and  sit  up 
in  that  chair  there." 

"No,  no!  Take  her  out  of  here.  She's  all  I 
have  left  to  me." 

"Up  there,  Doris." 

I  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  the  wit- 
ness chair. 

"Your  Honour,"  said  Strickland  in  a  last  des- 
perate effort,  "I  want  to  keep  my  child  out  of 
this.  It's  the  only  request  I've  made.  You're  a 
man,  Your  Honour,  a  father,  perhaps — " 

"I  am  powerless  to  help  you,"  said  the  Judge 
gravely.  "I  am  merely  an  instrument  of  the  law 
which  will  mete  out  justice  to  you.  The  law  must 
be  permitted  to  take  its  course.  Proceed,  Mr. 
Arbuckle." 

Strickland  sank  into  his  chair.  He  buried  his 
face  in  his  arms  spread  out  on  the  table  before 
him.  Not  once  while  the  child  was  on  the  stand 
did  he  alter  his  position. 

"Your  Honour,"  said  the  District  Attorney,  "I 


178  ON  TRIAL 

respectfully  ask  that  the  competency  of  this  child 
to  testify  be  determined." 

"By  all  means,  Your  Honour,"  I  hastened  to 
agree. 

Again,  Judge  Dinsmore  leaned  forward  from 
behind  his  desk.  His  tone  was  unwontedly  gen- 
tle. 

"How  old  are  you,  Doris?" 

The  child  gave  him  one  of  those  quick  apprais- 
ing glances  with  which  children  accost  strangers. 
Apparently,  she  was  satisfied  with  the  result  of  her 
scrutiny,  for  she  gave  him  a  brave  little  smile,  and 
answered  in  a  clear  voice  which  could  readily  be 
heard  in  any  part  of  the  crowded  room. 

"I'm  going  to  be  nine  years  old  on  the  6th 
of  November." 

"And  do  you  go  to  school?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  was  promoted.  I'm  in  the  Gram- 
mar School  now." 

"Did  you  ever  go  to  Sunday  school?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  went  every  Sunday  before — be- 
fore my  mamma  went  away.  But  now  my  Aunt 
Helen  won't  let  me  go,  because  all  the  children 
talk  about  me  and  make  me  cry." 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     179 

"Did  you  learn  in  Sunday  school  that  you  must 
always  tell  the  truth  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  That's  one  of  the  Ten  Command- 
ments. 'Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  witness  against 
thy  neighbour.'  That  means  that  you  should 
never  tell  a  lie.  Miss  Weston  told  us  that." 

"Who  is  Miss  Weston?" 

"She's  my  Sunday  school  teacher.  She  taught 
me  all  of  the  Ten  Commandments.  Shall  I  say 
them  for  you*?" 

"Not  now." 

The  Judge  turned  to  the  District  Attorney  with 
a  smile. 

"I  think  she  may  testify.  Proceed,  Mr.  Ar- 
buckle." 

I  crossed  over  in  front  of  the  table  where  I 
could  be  nearer. 

"Doris,  what  is  your  full  name?" 

"Doris  Helen  Strickland." 

"Who  is  your  father?" 

"That's  my  daddy  there." 

She  stood  up  as  if  she  were  about  to  run  back  to 
him,  but  I  stopped  her  with  a  warning  look,  to 
remind  her  of  her  promise. 


i8o  ON  TRIAL 

"Robert  Strickland  is  your  father?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Doris,  do  you  remember  the  night  on  which 
Mr.  Trask  was  shot?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Had  your  father  been  away  from  home?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  was  away  in  Cleveland.  Buy- 
ing a  house  for  my  mamma  and  me  to  live  in." 

"And  he  came  back  that  evening?" 

"Vxic       oif  " 

i  es,  sir. 

"Now,  just  before  he  came  home,  where  were 
you?" 

"I  was  in  our  sitting  room." 

"That  was  about  half-past  seven,  wasn't  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  what  were  you  doing?" 

"I  was  waiting  for  Daddy." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  were  you  reading,  or  play- 
ing, or  sitting  still?" 

"I  was  practising  my  piano  lesson  part  of  the 
time." 

"And  then?" 

"And  then  I  remembered  that  my  mamma  was 
lying  down  resting,  and  I  stopped." 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     181 

"And  what  did  you  do  then?" 

"I  went  and  sat  behind  the  end  of  the  sofa  and 
played  with  my  dolls  until  Mamma  came  in  to 
telephone  to  the  man  about  the  purse  she  had 
lost." 

At  the  table  behind  me,  I  could  hear  Strickland 
stir  uneasily,  but  he  did  not  lift  his  head. 

Through  all  that  long  story  which  we  had  gone 
over  together  again  and  again,  I  led  the  poor  child. 
There  were  times  when  she  hesitated;  times  when 
she  appealed  to  me  with  a  look  to  spare  her  from 
the  long  and  harrowing  ordeal  to  which  I  was  ask- 
ing her  to  submit.  After  the  preliminary  ques- 
tions and  answers  I  was  careful  to  stand  so  that 
she  could  not  catch  even  a  glimpse  of  her  father's 
bowed  head.  I  was  more  afraid  for  him  than  for 
her.  I  knew  that  I  had  succeeded  in  instilling 
into  her  childish  mind  that  she  was  doing  it  all 
to  help  her  "daddy."  I  felt  sure  that  I  could 
count  upon  her  loyal  devotion  to  him.  But  it 
was  too  much  to  suppose  that  she  would  be  proof 
against  the  strain  of  his  making  another  of  his 
passionate  appeals  to  the  Court. 

How  much  of  the  story  that  she  was  telling  he 


182  ON  TRIAL 

took  in,  I  had  no  means  of  judging.  But  from 
time  to  time  the  choking  sound  that  I  heard  from 
the  table  behind  me  made  me  apprehensive  that 
he  was  nearing  the  breaking  point.  At  all  costs, 
I  must  get  Doris'  story  before  the  Jury.  Once 
established  that  the  motive  for  shooting  Gerald 
Trask  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  disappearance 
of  the  money  in  his  safe,  I  felt  that  Strickland 
had  a  chance  for  his  life. 

True,  he  had  asserted  and  reiterated  that  his 
life  was  valueless  in  his  own  eyes.  No  doubt  he 
had  justification  for  thinking  so.  Nevertheless,  I 
believed  that,  should  he  escape  being  called  upon 
to  pay  the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law,  the  day 
would  yet  dawn  when  he  would  be  thankful  to 
have  done  so,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  his  brave 
little  daughter. 

Not  that  I  imagined  for  a  moment  that  the 
child  before  me  in  the  least  comprehended  the 
significance  of  the  shameful  history  I  was  dragging 
from  her  reluctant  lips.  To  impute  such  knowl- 
edge to  an  innocent  little  girl  would  be  monstrous. 
But  it  was  none  the  less  a  hideous  and  frightful 
experience  for  her.  The  shock  and  terror  of  the 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     183 

circumstances  surrounding  the  disappearance  of 
both  her  parents  was  with  her  still. 

Added  to  this,  the  meeting  with  her  father,  the 
dreadful  change  in  his  appearance,  the  mystery 
which  enveloped  everything  connected  with  him, 
the  uncertainty  as  to  when  they  were  going  to  be 
united  again  coupled  with  the  total  disappearance 
of  her  equally  loved  mother  only  added  to  the 
strain  under  which  she  was  labouring. 

At  last  we  were  nearing  the  end.  The  child 
had  done  marvels.  I  could  not  have  asked  for  a 
better  witness.  Upon  the  few  occasions  when  she 
had  faltered,  I  had  only  to  admonish  her  with  an 
upraised  finger — the  signal  we  had  agreed  upon 
— and  she  found  new  courage  to  go  on. 

We  had  come  to  that  point  in  her  narrative  when 
her  frantic  mother  had  attempted  to  get  Gerald 
Trask  on  the  telephone  and  had  snatched  her  child 
in  her  arms  hysterically  calling  her  by  every  en- 
dearing name  that  her  distracted  mind  could  sug- 
gest, when  Doris  broke  down  utterly. 

"I'm  afraid!     I'm  afraid!"  she  sobbed. 

"Don't  cry,  Doris.  I  won't  be  much  longer. 
Whom  did  your  mother  call  up^" 


184  ON  TRIAL 

"Mr.  Trask.     But  he  wasn't  there." 

"How  do  you  know  he  wasn't  there ?" 

"Because  Mamma  said:  'I  will  call  again.'  " 

"Then  what  did  she  do?" 

"She  cried,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
and  said  lots  of  terrible  things." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"She  said:  'Why  didn't  I  tell  him!  Why 
didn't  I  tell  him!'" 

"What  then?" 

"Then  I  cried,  too,  because  I  was  frightened. 
I  wanted  to  talk  to  her,  but  she  wouldn't.  I  was 
awfully  afraid.  I'm  afraid  now." 

"Don't  cry,  Doris.  It  will  only  be  a  few  min- 
utes longer.  Then  we'll  be  through  with  you." 

But,  for  the  time  being,  she  had  completely  lost 
her  self-control. 

"I  want  my  mamma!" 

"Try  not  to  cry.  Just  a  little  while  longer. 
That's  a  good  girl.  Are  you  listening  to  me?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  poor  child,  choking  back 
a  sob. 

"Did  your  mother  call  up  again?" 

"Yes,  sir.     And  she  said:     'Is  that  you,  Gerald 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     185 

'••'•' 
Trask?'     I  don't  want  to  talk  any  more.     My 

head  hurts  and  I'm  afraid !" 

"Don't  be  afraid.  We'll  be  finished  in  a  mo- 
ment. Your  mother  said:  Ts  that  you,  Gerald 
Trask?'— " 

"Yes,  sir." 

("What  happened  then?" 
"Then — then — oh,  I  don't  know." 

"Yes,  you  do,  Doris.  Just  try  to  think. 
You've  told  me  about  it  a  great  many  times." 

"I  don't  remember." 

"Try  to  think  a  moment.  Be  a  brave  girl. 
Did  you  hear  a  noise  through  the  telephone?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Here,  the  District  Attorney  saw  fit  to  interrupt 
us. 

"If  the  Court  please,  I  must  insist  that  my 
friend  refrain  from  leading  the  witness." 

"I  submit,  Your  Honour,  that  the  child  is  la- 
bouring under  a  terrific  strain,  and  that  I  must  be 
allowed  some  latitude." 

"Try  not  to  lead  the  witness,"  admonished  the 
Court. 

"You  say  you  heard  a  noise,  Doris?" 


186  ON  TRIAL 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  kind  of  a  noise  was  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  A  funny  noise.  Like  a  little 
firecracker." 

"And  what  did  your  mother  do  when  she  heard 
the  noise?" 

"She  screamed  and  said:  'My  God,  he's  killed 
him!'  Please  let  me  go.  I  don't  want  to  talk 
any  more." 

"Just  one  more  question,  and  you'll  be  all 
through." 

"I  don't  want  to." 

"What  did  your  mother  do  after  she  said :  'My 
God,  he's  killed  him'?" 

"She  took  me  in  her  arms  and  kissed  me  and 
said:  fGood-bye.'  And  I  cried  because  it  hurt 
when  she  kissed  me." 

"Did  she  go  away  then?" 

"Yes." 

"And  have  you  seen  your  mother  since  that 
night?" 

"No,  no!  And  I  want  to  see  her,"  said  the 
child,  sobbing  afresh. 

"Do  you  know  where  she  is?" 


DORIS  CREATES  A  SENSATION     187 

"No,  no.  Please  tell  me.  I  want  to  see  her. 
I  want  to  see  her.  Daddy  dear,"  she  left  her 
chair  and  started  down  the  steps  of  the  witness 
stand,  "why  did  you  make  my  mamma  cry  and 
run  away  from  me*?" 

I  caught  her  in  my  arms,  and  turned  and  faced 
the  Court. 

"That's  the  child's  story,  Your  Honour!" 

"For  God's  sake,  you're  torturing  my  little 
baby!"  cried  Strickland,  unable  to  contain  him- 
self any  longer. 

"I  move  that  the  child's  testimony  be  stricken 
out,"  said  the  District  Attorney  stormily. 

"Mr.  Strickland,  silence !"  The  Judge  rapped 
with  his  gavel. 

"You're  torturing  my  little  girl!"  repeated 
Strickland  wildly. 

And  so  ended  the  first  day  of  the  trial. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A    RETURN    FROM    THE    GRAVE 

THE  strain  had  been  greater  than  I  realised. 
After  leaving  the  court,  I  went  over  to  the  little 
suite  of  offices  which  I  have  always  kept,  more 
as  a  matter  of  form  in  order  to  have  a  business 
address  than  for  any  real  necessity,  and  throwing 
myself  down  on  the  couch  which  stands  in  the 
smaller,  or  "private"  office,  slept  heavily  for  more 
than  an  hour. 

When  I  awoke  with  that  heavy  feeling  that  I 
always  have  upon  the  rare  occasions  when  I  at- 
tempt to  sleep  in  the  daytime,  I  found  that  it 
lacked  but  a  few  moments  till  my  dinner  hour. 
I  could  not  possibly  arrive  home  on  time.  As 
punctuality  is  a  thing  I  have  always  insisted  upon 
in  regulating  my  house,  particularly  in  regard  to 
the  hours  for  meals,  I  decided  that,  rather  than 
arrive  even  a  few  minutes  late,  I  would  send  word 
that  I  was  detained  down  town. 

Accordingly  I  telephoned  McLean  to  that  effect, 
188 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     189 

and  prepared  to  go  out  to  some  neighbouring 
restaurant  for  my  dinner.  I  felt  curiously  re- 
lieved once  I  had  come  to  this  decision.  It  was 
only  while  I  was  combing  my  hair  before  the  little 
mirror  in  the  wash-room  that  I  succeeded  in  an- 
alysing the  feeling  of  reluctance  that  I  had  for 
going  home.  It  was  McLean  I  dreaded  to  meet. 

By  this  time  he  would  have  devoured  every 
word  in  the  evening  papers  on  the  subject  of  the 
trial.  And  while,  of  course,  he  would  never 
broach  the  subject  himself,  he  would  know  how  to 
make  his  reticence  as  eloquent  as  an  interrogation 
point  endowed  with  life!  I  could  feel  the  ques- 
tion in  his  eyes  fastened  on  my  back  as  he  stood 
behind  my  chair.  And  in  my  present  mood,  I 
felt  that  that  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  After 
I  had  had  my  dinner,  and  had  recovered  from  the 
effects  of  my  nap,  I  would  feel  differently.  I  had 
no  intention  of  staying  down  town  late.  I  had 
too  much  to  do  on  the  morrow. 

As  I  stepped  out  into  the  street,  my  ears  were 
assailed  by  the  raucous  cries  of  the  newsboys, 
hawking  their  wares. 

"Wexta,  wexta !     All  about  the  Robert  Strick- 


190  ON  TRIAL 

land  case !     Child  of  accused  man  on  stand !"  and 
so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

I  would  have  liked  to  put  my  hands  over  my 


ears! 


At  the  door  of  the  restaurant  where  I  always  go 
upon  the  rare  occasions  when  I  eat  down  town — 
for  the  reason  that  the  proprietor  was  formerly 
the  steward  of  my  club,  and  I  am  always  sure  of 
particular  attention — I  was  suddenly  seized  with 
a  sort  of  nervous  panic.  If  I  went  in  there,  where 
there  were  sure  to  be  a  number  of  people  who 
would  know  of  my  connection  with  the  Strick- 
land case,  they  would  certainly  want  to  talk  about 
it.  I  might  just  as  well  dine  at  home  under  Mc- 
Lean's accusing  and  reproachful  eye.  I  turned 
and  fled. 

I  think  I  must  have  walked  a  mile  before  I 
found  anything  that  attracted  me.  Several  times 
I  was  on  the  point  of  entering  places  when  my  eye 
would  fall  upon  some  one  sitting  at  a  table  who 
resembled  some  one  I  know.  That  was  enough. 
Positively  I  was  getting  morbid  on  the  subject  of 
avoiding  my  acquaintances.  I  fully  realised  that 
it  was  a  matter  of  tired  nerves,  and  therefore  made 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     191 

no  attempt  to  combat  my  impulse  for  seclusion  as 
I  would  otherwise  have  done. 

At  length,  I  woke  up  to  the  appreciation  that  I 
was  both  hungry  and  physically  tired.  I  formed 
the  childish  resolution  of  going  into  the  third 
restaurant  I  came  to  no  matter  how  unattractive 
it  might  appear.  Fortune  was  better  to  me  than 
I  deserved.  The  third  restaurant  proved  to  be  a 
clean,  albeit  modest,  affair  somewhat  on  the  order 
of  a  bakery. 

The  dishes  listed  on  the  bill-of-fare  were  of  the 
simple  and  wholesome  variety.  I  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  making  a  selection  that  appealed  to  me. 
Moreover,  when  they  arrived,  they  proved  to  be 
well  cooked,  and  neatly  served  by  a  pleasant-faced 
woman  who  looked  as  if  she  might  have  been  of 
German  origin. 

However,  if  I  hoped  to  escape  hearing  of  the 
Strickland  case,  I  was  doomed  to  disappointment. 
Whether  the  few  people  in 'the  restaurant  were 
friends  or  acquaintances,  I,  naturally,  had  no 
means  of  knowing.  But,  in  any  case,  they  dis- 
cussed the  case  from  table  to  table  with  an  ex- 
traordinary fervour.  In  the  three  quarters  of  an 


192  ON  TRIAL 

hour  which  I  took  for  the  consummation  of  my 
dinner,  I  certainly  listened  to  some  remarkable 
theories,  many  of  which  would  have  aroused  the 
ire  of  McLean. 

As  far  as  I  could  gather,  popular  sympathy  was 
about  equally  divided  between  the  widow  of  Ger- 
ald Trask  and  Strickland.  To  my  unbounded 
astonishment,  Trask's  reputation  for  philandering 
seemed  to  be  quite  as  well  known  to  the  patrons 
of  this  obscure  little  restaurant  as  it  was  in  the 
circles  in  which  he  had  moved  during  his  lifetime. 
I  found  food  for  thought  in  the  discovery. 

Another  curious  thing  was  that,  without  excep- 
tion, it  was  the  women  that  hoped  that  Strick- 
land might  get  off.  The  men,  while  free  to  con- 
fess that  in  the  light  of  the  day's  revelations,  he 
had  done  what  any  man  might  naturally  do  in 
the  circumstances,  seemed  to  be  in  favour  of  his 
paying  the  penalty  of  his  act.  While  they  did 
not  phrase  it  that  way,  I  gathered  that  they  felt 
it  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  public  morals  gener- 
ally, if  he  were  to  go  free,  or  even  if  he  were  to 
escape  with  a  term  of  imprisonment. 

Opinion  was  divided  on  the  subject  of  Doris 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     193 

having  been  put  on  the  stand.  It  was  flattering 
to  learn  that  it  was  one  of  the  shrewdest  tricks 
that  any  lawyer  had  "gotten  away  with" — I  think 
I  have  the  phrase  correctly — for  a  very  long  time. 
The  only  thing  that  seemed  to  be  at  all  compar- 
able with  it,  in  the  mind  of  one  of  my  critics,  was 
a  piece  of  sharp  practice  lately  indulged  in  by  one 
of  the  most  disreputable  and  notorious  persons 
who  ever  brought  the  practice  of  law  into  dis- 
repute. I  may  add  that  he  was  disbarred  shortly 
after  the  same  brilliant  achievement. 

But  the  preponderance  of  the  opinion  was  in 
our  favour.  Doris  was  declared  to  be  a  fine, 
brave  child.  (As  indeed  she  was.)  And  I  came 
in  for  some  praise  for  the  bold  tactics  I  had 
adopted,  and  the  skill  I  had  displayed  in  building 
up  a  case  out  of  so  little  promising  material. 

I  left  the  restaurant  to  find  to  my  surprise  that  I 
had  lingered  there  nearly  twice  as  long  as  I  had 
intended.  With  the  hope  that  the  exercise  might 
remove  the  last  traces  of  sluggishness  from  my 
brain — for  I  had  still  much  to  do  before  I  slept — 
I  decided  to  walk  home,  taking  it  slowly  and  easily 
so  as  not  to  tire  myself  unnecessarily. 


194  ON  TRIAL 

As  I  went  up  the  steps,  I  looked  at  my  watch. 
Ten  o'clock !  I  had  intended  being  home  long  be- 
fore. I  had  just  taken  my  key  out  of  my  pocket, 
when  McLean  opened  the  door. 

"What  has  happened?"  I  cried,  after  one  look 
at  his  face. 

"It's  Mrs.  Strickland,  sir." 

"Mrs.  Strickland !  Good  Heavens,  let  me  see. 
I  haven't  read  a  paper." 

I  pointed  to  the  pile  of  evening  papers  on  the 
stand. 

"There's  nothing  about  her  in  the  papers. 
She's  here." 

"Here !  McLean,  have  you  taken  leave  of  your 
senses?" 

"Mayhap  I  have,"  he  said  stubbornly.  "But 
I  still  had  them  when  I  showed  her  up  to  the 
library." 

"The  library?"  I  echoed  stupidly. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  took  her  up  there  on  account  of 
the  big  couch.  She  was  hardly  able  to  stand. 
There's  a  hospital  nurse  with  her." 

I  could  only  lean  weakly  against  the  hat-stand, 
and  stare  at  him.  If  my  life  had  depended  on  my 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     195 

doing  anything  for  the  next  few  seconds,  it  would 
have  been  forfeited. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  I  managed  finally. 

"There's  nothing  to  tell.  The  bell  rang.  I 
went  to  the  door.  Taxi  standing  in  front  of  the 
house.  Chauffeur  wanting  to  know  if  Mr.  Mal- 
colm Arbuckle  lived  here.  When  he  finds  out, 
goes  back  to  taxi.  He  and  nurse  help  a  lady  out 
and  up  the  steps.  She  says  she's  Mrs.  Robert 
Strickland.  When  she  finds  you're  not  in,  says 
she'll  wait.  Nurse  stays  with  her." 

"McLean,"  I  said,  "go  up  and  tell  them  that 
I  have  returned,  and  that  I  will  see  them  inside  of 
five  minutes.  And  then  come  back  and  give  me 
a  high  ball.  I'll  be  in  the  dining-room." 

And  in  the  dining-room  he  found  me  on  his  re- 
turn, sitting  in  the  darkness.  I  hadn't  the 
strength  to  turn  on  the  lights. 

The  nurse  met  me  outside  of  the  door. 

"I  must  explain  before  you  see  her,"  she  began 
in  quite  her  professional  manner,  "that  Mrs. 
Strickland  has  been  lying  at  the  point  of  death 
ever  since  the — the — " 

"The  night  of  the  murder,"  I  finished  for  her, 


196  ON  TRIAL 

seeing  that  she  seemed  to  have  difficulty  in  getting 
out  the  word, 

"Exactly.  She  has  had  brain  fever.  Only 
a  few  days  ago,  she  was  still  delirious  the 
greater  part  of  the  time.  She  was  to  have 
been  allowed  to  sit  up  for  the  first  time  to-mor- 


row." 


"And  she's  here?     Now?' 

"She's  here,  now." 

It  was  too  much  for  me.  I  could  only  shake 
my  head  in  silent  protest  against  these  two  irrecon- 
cilable statements. 

"And  what  possessed  her  to  come  here?  If  she 
has  been  ill  as  you  say,  how  could  she  have  kept 
track  of  things?  How,  for  example,  did  she 
know  that  I  was  defending  her  husband?" 

"It  all  came  about  through  a  lapse  in  discipline 
on  the  part  of  two  of  the  nurses,"  she  said 
severely.  "They  had  read  about  the  little  girl, 
you  know,  in  the  evening  papers.  And  supposing 
that  Mrs.  Strickland  was  asleep  because  she  was 
lying  there  with  her  eyes  closed,  they  were  talk- 
ing it  over  in  a  corner  of  the  Ward. 

"But  Mrs.  Strickland  wasn't  asleep.     She  heard 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     197 

every  word  they  said.  She  opened  her  eyes  and 
asked  them  several  questions  about  it.  And  then 
she  suddenly  sat  up  in  her  bed — she  that  hadn't 
had  the  strength  to  hardly  turn  herself  for  weeks 
— and  insisted  upon  seeing  the  doctor. 

"When  he  came  to  see  what  was  wanted,  she 
told  him  that  the  name  she  had  given  us,  May 
Deane,  was  her  maiden  name.  That  she  was 
really  Mrs.  Robert  Strickland  and  that  the  little 
girl  they  had  been  talking  about  was  her  child,  and 
that  the  man  on  trial  was  her  husband. 

"She  insisted  upon  coming  to  -see  you,  and  she 
says  she's  going  to  the  court  to-morrow,  and  that 
what  she  has  to  tell  will  free  her  husband.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  let  her.  And  the  doctor 
gave  me  my  orders  to  come  with  her." 

"But  she  can't  go  to  court  until  I  hear  what  she 
is  willing  to  testify  to." 

"That's  what  she's  come  for;  to  tell  you  her 
story." 

"And  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  a  woman  as 
sick  as  you  say  she  has  been  has  had  the  strength 
to  do  all  this?' 

"It  would  seem  so." 


198  ON  TRIAL 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  don't  understand 
it." 

"I  guess  you  don't  understand  much  about 
women,"  said  the  nurse  dryly. 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  further  to  say  on 
that  head. 

"Shall  we  go  on  in,  or  do  you  wish  to  tell  her 
that  I  am  here?' 

"I  will  just  go  in  and  speak  to  her  first.  You 
must  remember  that  she  is  very  weak.  She  may 
not  be  able  to  tell  her  story  very  connectedly.  But 
you  will  be  patient  with  her  I  am  sure.  Will 
you  wait  a  moment*?" 

"Certainly." 

It  seemed  only  a  second  until  she  was  back. 
Holding  the  door  open  for  me,  she  signed  for  me 
to  go  in  ahead  of  her. 

It  was  curious  how  the  whole  room  seemed 
strange  and  unfamiliar.  And  yet  nothing  had 
been  changed  in  any  way.  I  could  not  see  that 
even  a  chair  had  been  displaced.  Was  it  the  mere 
presence  of  a  hospital  nurse  in  her  severely  plain 
uniform  that  made  the  difference?  The  room 
seemed  also  unaccountably  dim.  But  I  soon  saw 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     199 

that  it  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  nurse  had 
improvised  a  screen  for  my  reading  lamp  to  keep 
the  light  from  the  eyes  of  the  woman  on  the  couch. 

And  then  I  saw  her.  I  had  thought  that  I  had 
seen  the  worst  that  grief  could  do  when  I  had  seen 
how  suffering  had  stamped  the  face  of  Strickland. 
But  I  had  not  then  seen  his  wife.  For  a  moment 
my  heart  seemed  to  have  stopped  beating.  It 
did  not  seem  possible  that  she  could  be  alive.  I 
found  myself  vainly  searching  that  ghastly  face, 
emaciated  to  an  unbelievable  degree  and  of  an 
incomparable  pallor,  for  any  resemblance  to  the 
pictured  face  I  had  carried  about  with  me  for 
days,  and  finding  none.  Only  her  eyes  were 
alive.  All  there  was  of  life  was  concentrated  in 
them. 

Mechanically  I  took  the  chair  which  the  nurse 
silently  placed  beside  the  couch.  I  recalled  after- 
wards that  I  never  thought  of  any  of  the  conven- 
tional formalities.  It  never  occurred  to  me,  for 
example,  to  introduce  myself.  Nor  was  I  con- 
scious of  wishing  to  say  anything.  How  long  I 
sat,  silently  meeting  the  steady  glow  of  those  burn- 
ing eyes,  I  have  not  the  least  idea. 


200  ON  TRIAL 

It  was  she  who  eventually  broke  the  silence,  if 
the  silence  could  be  said  to  be  broken  by  the  faint 
whisper  which  was  her  voice. 

"Robert;  how  does  he  bear  it?" 

"He  is  wonderful,"  I  said. 

"And  my  baby?     Where  is  she?" 

"She  is  at  her  aunt's." 

"At  Helen's;  I  am  glad  of  that.  She  was — 
there  to-day." 

"Yes.     I  made  it  as  easy  for  her  as  I  could." 

"She  is  brave,  like  him." 

The  nurse  went  over  to  the  corner  of  the  room. 
My  eyes  had  by  now  accustomed  themselves  to  the 
semi-darkness,  and  I  saw  that  there  were  some 
medicines  and  glasses  standing  on  the  etagere. 
The  nurse  gave  her  something  to  drink  out  of  one 
of  them. 

"Will  you  come  a  little  closer,  please?  I 
haven't  quite  got  my  strength  yet,  and  I  must 
save  my  voice  for  to-morrow.  I  want  to  tell  you 
my  story." 

Save  herself  for  to-morrow!  I  glanced  up  at 
the  nurse.  My  face  must  have  expressed  my  in- 
credulity. I  moved  up  closer  to  the  woman  on 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     201 

the  couch,  and  bent  over  her  that  I  might  catch 
her  faintest  word. 

I  am  not  going  to  attempt  to  tell  the  story  as 
she  told  it  to  me  then.  It  came  brokenly  and 
haltingly  from  her  lips.  There  were  times  when 
she  was  obliged  to  stop  and  rest.  There  were 
times  when,  at  a  sign  from  the  nurse,  I  begged 
her  to  do  so,  or  made  an  excuse  to  get  up  and  pace 
the  floor.  Although  I  did  not  realise  it  at  the 
time,  I  was  sitting  in  a  cramped  position.  But 
the  next  day,  and  for  several  days  afterwards,  my 
back  was  sore  and  lame. 

But  it  was  only  in  the  manner  of  the  telling, 
that  the  story  halted.  In  itself,  it  was  singularly 
clear  and  direct;  at  least,  all  that  part  of  it  that 
had  to  do  with  her  first  meeting  with  Gerald 
Trask.  When  it  came  to  the  events  of  the  night 
of  the  murder,  their  sequence  seemed  to  be  indis- 
tinct in  her  mind.  I  was  frequently  obliged  to 
stop  her,  and  put  some  question  when  some  state- 
ment that  she  made  seemed  to  me  to  be  obscure, 
or  when  it  failed  to  tally  with  the  account  I  had 
had  from  Doris. 

It  was  nearly  midnight,  when  acting  on  the 


202  ON  TRIAL 

nurse's  suggestion,  I  withdrew  for  an  hour  to  give 
Mrs.  Strickland  an  opportunity  to  rest.  At  the 
door,  we  had  another  brief  conference. 

"Of  course,  it  is  madness  to  think  of  her  at- 
tempting to  appear  in  court  to-morrow." 

"I  think  she  will  find  strength  to  go." 

"It  doesn't  look  as  if  she  could  possibly  find 
the  strength  to  do  it." 

"It  doesn't  look  as  if  she  could  possibly  find 
the  strength  to  stay  away." 

Again  I  felt  that  1  was  being  snubbed. 

When  I  returned  shortly  after  one,  it  was  to 
find  that  the  short  hour's  rest  had  worked  a  really 
remarkable  change.  The  nurse  informed  me  that 
her  patient  had  slept  nearly  the  whole  time.  No 
doubt  the  relief  she  drew  from  having  taken  the 
first  step  to  save  her  husband  contributed  largely 
to  her  improvement.  Certainly,  her  voice  was 
noticeably  stronger,  and  I  even  thought  that  her 
face  appeared  less  waxen. 

The  dawn  was  finding  its  way  through  the 
drawn  shades,  when  we  had  finished.  I  had  or- 
dered a  room  prepared  for  Mrs.  Strickland  and 
the  nurse  which  was  on  the  same  floor  with  the 


A  RETURN  FROM  THE  GRAVE     203 

library.  Having  assisted  her  as  far  as  the  door, 
I  left  her  to  take  a  much-needed  rest.  It  was 
arranged  that  she  would  be  ready  to  go  with  me 
to  the  court  a  little  before  ten. 

The  part  of  her  story  which  was  entirely  new 
to  me,  I  will  tell  later  as  she  herself  told  it  on 
the  witness  stand.  I  can  only  say  that  it  changed 
entirely  the  aspect  of  the  case. 

But  that  part  of  it  which  dealt  with  the  night 
of  June  24th,  and  her  wanderings  after  she  left 
her  house,  belongs  here. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AN    OMINOUS    ENCOUNTER 

As  I  already  knew,  she  had  sent  her  child  to  pass 
the  day  with  her  sister.  It  was  not  an  unusual 
thing  for  her  to  have  done.  Frequently,  when 
she  had  any  great  amount  of  shopping  to  do,  or 
when,  upon  rare  occasions,  she  and  her  husband 
were  able  to  plan  some  little  outing  together — for 
in  spite  of  the  years  that  had  gone  by  since  their 
marriage,  they  were  lovers  still,  and  embraced  all 
opportunities  that  offered  to  take  long  walks  in 
the  country  where  they  could  be  quite  by  them- 
selves— Bertha  would  be  told  that  she  could  take 
Miss  Doris  up  to  her  aunt's  and  then  have  the 
rest  of  the  day  to  herself. 

They  did  not  always  go  to  the  country.  Some- 
times they  would  "do"  a  museum  instead,  or  even 
go  to  a  theatre,  pretending  that  they  were  a  coun- 
try bride  and  groom  off  on  their  honeymoon  in 

the  great  city.     They  would  finish  the  day  with 

204 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      205 

dinner  at  some  restaurant,  or  go  home  and  have 
a  picnic  supper  which  they  would  get  themselves. 

It  was  from  intimate  little  touches  like  this 
which  frequently  came  out  in  her  story  that  I 
saw  how  happy  they  had  been,  and  how  united 
they  were.  They  had  been  selfishly  absorbed  in 
each  other,  she  acknowledged  that.  She  even  saw 
comparatively  little  of  her  only  living  sister;  but 
there  were  other  reasons  for  that  besides  her  de- 
votion to  her  husband. 

The  sisters  had  never  had  a  quarrel  in  their 
lives.  But  about  one  thing,  they  had  finally 
agreed  to  disagree.  Mrs.  Strickland's  resolution 
to  keep  from  her  husband  the  knowledge  of  a 
tragedy  which  had  shadowed  her  youth,  did  not 
meet  with  the  elder  woman's  approval. 

As  they  were  both  women  of  unusual  force  of 
character,  neither  would  give  way  in  the  matter. 
And  while  long  ago  they  had  mutually  resolved 
never  to  re-open  the  subject,  it  was  ever  present 
in  the  mind  of  each  when  they  were  together,  and 
gradually  raised  up  a  certain  barrier  between 
them. 

Another  subject  upon  which  they  were  com- 


206  ON  TRIAL 

pletely  out  of  sympathy,  and  which,  also,  was 
never  alluded  to,  was  Mrs.  Stanwood's  only  child, 
a  young  man  in  the  early  twenties  who,  according 
to  Mrs.  Strickland,  was  about  as  worthless  as  he 
well  could  be. 

Spoiled  and  indulged  all  through  his  childhood 
by  his  widowed  mother — even  so  strong  a  woman 
as  Mrs.  Stanwood  has  her  weak  point,  and  this 
child  was  her's — his  idle  and  dissipated  habits 
made  him  a  constant  drain  upon  her  modest  re- 
sources, as  well  as  a  continued  ground  for  anxiety. 
Mrs.  Strickland  confessed  that  she  could  never 
even  think  of  him  without  irritation;  attributing, 
as  she  did,  her  sister's  ill-health  entirely  to  worry 
on  his  account. 

I  do  not  mean  to  convey  the  idea  that  she  told 
me  all  these  things  in  the  form  in  which  I  am 
relating  them.  She  was,  most  probably  on  ac- 
count of  her  weakness,  continually  halting  her 
narrative  for  the  purpose  of  going  back  to  pick 
up  some  forgotten  thread,  or  to  cite  some  instance 
or  anecdote  which  in  her  judgment  might  serve 
the  purpose  of  illumination. 

It  was  as  if  she  had  wished  to  paint  for  me  in 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      207 

words  a  picture  of  their  happiness  up  to  the  time 
when  her  husband  left  on  that  last,  and  as  it  was 
to  turn  out,  fatal  visit  to  the  West.  If  that  were 
her  purpose  she  certainly  succeeded. 

I  have  rarely  if  ever  in  my  life  encountered  a 
family  so  absolutely  united  as  the  family  of  Rob- 
ert Strickland  seemed  to  have  been.  They  per- 
haps laid  themselves  open  to  criticism  on  the 
ground  that  they  were  too  self-centred.  They 
had  few  if  any  interests  outside  of  their  home, 
each  other,  and  their  child. 

Strickland  was  one  of  the  most  domestic  of 
men.  And  like  most  men  of  his  type  he  might  be 
said  to  have  been  almost  dependent  upon  his  wife 
in  many  little  ways.  At  all  events,  she  it  was 
who  screened  and  protected  him  from  all  the  little 
petty  annoyances  which  assail  the  average  man 
every  day  of  his  life.  He  had  no  secrets  from 
her.  She  encouraged  him  to  talk  of  his  business. 
And,  since  she  was  a  woman  of  unusual  intelli- 
gence, it  was  not  long  before  she  had  made  herself 
mistress  of  the  smallest  detail  of  his  affairs. 

She  assured  me,  and  I  had  no  reason  to  doubt 
her  word  or  to  think  that  she  was  self-deceived  in 


2o8  ON  TRIAL 

the  matter,  that  her  husband  never  embarked  upon 
any  enterprise,  or  took  any  momentous  step  with- 
out first  talking  the  whole  matter  over  with  her. 
And  it  was  the  rarest  thing  in  the  world  for  him 
to  act  contrary  to  her  advice. 

As  the  years  flowed  on  thus  smoothly,  the  terror 
that  ever  lurked  in  the  deep  recesses  of  her  mind 
and  heart  gradually  became  less  and  less  of  a 
menace  to  her  new  found  security  and  happiness. 
Not  that  she  was  not  constantly  on  her  guard. 
And  the  strain  of  this  unceasing  vigil  was  bound 
to  tell  upon  a  nervous  system  as  highly  organised 
as  hers. 

There  were  times  when,  without  any  real  cause, 
it  would  rear  its  unlovely  head.  There  were 
whole  days  when  she  gave  herself  up  to  despair. 
But  however  much  she  suffered,  when  her  hus- 
band returned  at  night,  he  always  found  her  the 
gay  and  cheerful  companion  that  he  had  always 
known;  ready  to  enter  into  his  mood  whatever  it 
might  be. 

She  had  fought  the  whole  question  out  with  her- 
self before  she  had  consented  to  marry  him.  In 
the  end,  she  had  decided — and  in  coming  to  this 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER       209 

conclusion,  she  had  been  largely  influenced  by  the 
consciousness  that,  beyond  the  fact  that  she  had 
cruelly  deceived  an  indulgent  and  loving  parent 
she  had  been  guilty  of  no  wrongdoing — that  the 
happiness  and  peace  of  mind  of  the  man  she  loved 
would  be  shattered  by  the  revelation  which  she 
would  have  to  make  if  she  took  him  completely 
into  her  confidence. 

It  was  characteristic  of  her  that,  having  once 
made  a  decision,  she  should  never  waver  from  it. 
A  thing  once  settled,  was  settled  for  all  time. 
Knowing  her  husband's  domestic  tastes,  and  how 
little  he  cared  for  society,  she  had  made  it  the 
business  to  make  his  home  so  attractive  that  he 
rarely,  if  ever,  wished  to  spend  his  time  elsewhere. 

Once  only  in  all  their  married  life  up  to  the 
time  when  he  was  forced  to  make  several  journeys 
to  the  West  to  arrange  the  details  of  his  new 
business  venture,  had  they  been  separated.  That 
was  the  time  shortly  before  Doris  was  born.  The 
years  of  strain  to  which  she  had  subjected  herself 
combined  with  her  condition  at  that  time  had  so 
worked  upon  her  overwrought  imagination  that 
she  became  positively  obsessed  with  the  idea  that. 


210  ON  TRIAL 

she  could  not  longer  guard  her  precious  secret  un- 
less she  went  away. 

She  had  left  a  letter  for  her  husband  telling 
him  that  she  was  going  away  for  a  week,  and  beg- 
ging him  not  to  attempt  to  find  her  and  follow 
her.  This  done,  she  had  gone  to  the  people  who 
long  ago  had  helped  nurse  her  through  a  long  and 
terrible  illness.  They  were  old  friends  of  her 
family  and  had  known  of  her  earlier  trouble. 
She  had  arrived  at  the  point  when  she  felt  that  she 
must  have  some  one  in  whom  to  confide  her  fears, 
and  who  would  be  wholly  sympathetic  as  her  sis- 
ter, in  the  circumstances,  could  not  be. 

Strickland  had  been  nearly  mad  with  anxiety 
when  he  found  her  letter.  He  had  rushed 
away  to  Mrs.  Stanwood,  who  had  at  once  sus- 
pected the  truth.  Telling  him  that  there  was  no 
real  cause  for  alarm,  and  that  she  was  sure  she 
would  have  news  for  him  within  a  few  hours — 
she  had  to  this  extent  lent  herself  to  the  deception 
of  which  she  so  strongly  disapproved — she  had 
started  at  once  for  the  little  country  place  which 
had  before  proved  a  real  asylum  to  the  af- 
flicted woman.  At  the  end  of  a  week  she  had  sue- 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      211 

ceeded  in  persuading  the  unhappy  woman  to  re- 
turn, and  had  managed  to  allay  her  fears  that 
there  was  any  greater  possibility  of  her  betraying 
herself  than  there  would  have  been  in  ordinary 
circumstances. 

With  the  birth  of  her  child,  Mrs.  Strickland's 
happiness  had  seemed  well-nigh  complete.  She 
had  longed  to  bear  a  son,  but  her  husband's  de- 
light that  the  child  was  a  girl,  coupled  with  the 
fact  that  the  baby  so  strongly  resembled  her  fa- 
ther, had  mitigated  her  first  disappointment. 

For  nearly  nine  years,  they  had  known  more 
happiness  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  mortals. 
She  had  even  begun  to  delude  herself  that  the 
spectre  that  had  so  long  haunted  her  days  was 
laid  forever.  And  then  one  night  at  dinner,  quite 
casually,  he  told  her  of  having  met  Gerald  Trask, 
the  rich  banker. 

The  very  unexpectedness  of  the  blow  made  it 
fall  all  the  more  heavily.  She  was  never  able  to 
recall  any  detail  of  their  conversation  during  the 
rest  of  the  dinner.  The  old  terror  had  hold  on 
her.  Mechanically  she  got  through  the  rest  of  the 
meal  in  some  fashion.  With  perfect  truth  she 


ON  TRIAL 

was  able  to  plead  a  "splitting  headache"  as  an 
excuse  for  going  immediately  to  bed. 

All  night  long  she  had  lain  wide-eyed  and  sleep- 
less by  his  side.  He  was  an  impulsive  man  of 
strong  likes  and  dislikes.  He  had  spoken  of  Trask 
with  even  more  than  his  usual  enthusiasm,  ex- 
pressing the  hope  that  he  might  see  more  of  him. 
How  was  she  to  prevent  this  without  arousing  his 
suspicion*?  Towards  morning,  overcome  with 
weariness,  she  had  a  new  terror  to  combat.  What 
if  she  should  fall  asleep  and  in  the  overwrought 
state  of  her  mind  say  something  to  betray  herself? 
At  intervals  she  arose  to  bathe  her  face  in  cold 
water  in  order  to  keep  awake. 

Her  appearance  the  next  morning  after  this 
exhausting  vigil  had  been  such  as  to  alarm  him. 
But  she  had  quieted  his  fears  by  attributing  it 
to  the  severity  and  duration  of  her  headache. 
But  she  was  to  know  no  more  peace  after  that 
night. 

She  had  gone  out  the  next  day  shortly  after  he 
left  the  house  saying  that  she  would  not  be  back 
to  luncheon.  She  passed  the  entire  day  in  Cen- 
tral Park  sitting  on  a  bench,  staring  with  unseeing 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      213 

eyes  over  the  grassy  lawns,  planning,  scheming, 
contriving  some  way  to  ward  off  the  threatened 
danger.  For  now  she  had  the  happiness  and  se- 
curity of  two  people  to  fight  for — her  child,  and 
her  husband. 

And  with  it  all  was  the  new  and  overmastering 
dread  that  she  no  longer  possessed  the  strength  to 
fight  any  more.  The  long  strain  had  told  on  her 
too  much.  What  if  she  should  break  down  at 
this,  the  eleventh  hour !  She  tried  to  tell  herself 
that  she  was  exaggerating  her  danger.  This 
casual  meeting  might  never  lead  to  anything. 
The  very  fact  that  her  husband  and  Gerald  Trask 
moved  in  different  worlds,  and  had  so  little  in 
common  would  seem  to  make  any  prospect  of  their 
ever  growing  intimate  sufficiently  remote.  To  be 
sure  there  was  her  husband's  avowed  intention  to 
follow  up  the  acquaintance.  She  never  remem- 
bered to  have  seen  him  quite  so  enthusiastic  over 
meeting  any  one  before. 

It  was  singular,  this  sudden  liking.  She  had 
heard  somewhere  that  Gerald  Trask  was  not  a 
man's  man.  That  he  never  took  any  pains  to  dis- 
guise the  fact  that  men,  as  a  rule,  did  not  interest 


214  ON  TRIAL 

him.  And  yet  he  must  have  gone  out  of  his  way 
to  have  interested  Robert  so  greatly. 

And  then  a  sudden,  terrifying  thought  struck 
her.  Did  he  know?  Was  there  something  sinis- 
ter behind  it  all?  Did  he  know  that  she  was 
Robert  Strickland's  wife4?  Did  he  know*?  Did 
he  know ?  Did  he  know?  It  would  be  like  him 
to  revenge  himself  upon  her  in  this  fashion,  to 
punish  her  after  all  these  years ! 

She  reached  home  just  before  dinner  in  a  more 
exhausted  state  than  when  she  had  left  it.  She 
had  not  even  thought  of  food  during  the  entire 
day.  Fortunately  he  was  unusually  late,  so  that 
she  had  been  able  to  make  some  slight  change  in 
her  toilette  before  he  returned. 

He  was  in  wonderfully  high  spirits.  What  did 
she  suppose  he  had  been  doing  all  afternoon? 
Playing  truant  like  the  veriest  schoolboy.  And 
where,  and  with  whom,  did  she  suppose  he  had 
gone?  She  braced  herself  for  the  answer  that 
she  knew  was  coming.  He  had  gone  to  a  ball 
game  with  Gerald  Trask. 

She  had  managed  a  look  of  smiling  indulgence 
for  this  peccadillo.  "Why  had  he  not  told  her 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      215 

of  this  pleasant  plan  at  breakfast*?"  Plan? 
There  had  been  no  plan  about  it.  By  the  merest 
chance,  he  had  bumped  into  Trask  on  returning 
from  lunch.  He,  it  seemed,  was  with  his  brother- 
in-law,  whose  home  was  in  Chicago.  They  had 
made  a  bet  on  the  ball  game  and  were  going  up 
to  see  it.  Why  did  not  Strickland  join  them? 
There  was  no  real  reason  why  he  shouldn't.  So 
he  had  telephoned  the  office  and  had  joined 
them. 

And,  by  the  way,  wasn't  it  her  turn  to  give  an 
account  of  her  day?  He  had  telephoned  the 
house  at  the  same  time  to  say  that  he  might  be  a 
little  late  for  dinner.  And  in  place  of  hearing 
the  voice  of  his  dutiful  wife,  as  he  had  expected, 
it  was  the  maid  who  had  replied.  And  what  was 
more,  she  had  said  that  her  mistress  had  left  the 
house  right  after  breakfast,  leaving  word  that  she 
couldn't  say  just  when  she  would  be  back. 

She  explained  that  she  had  gone  up  to  the 
Park  to  see  if  the  air  might  not  do  her  good  after 
her  indisposition  of  yesterday.  At  once  he  was 
all  remorse.  Here  he  had  been  enjoying  himself 
like  a  perfect  kid  and  she  had  been  having  a 


2i6  ON  TRIAL 

miserable  time  of  it.  But  he  had  missed  her,  just 
the  same.  He  had  kept  wishing  that  she  was 
along.  She  must  meet  Trask.  She  would  be 
sure  to  like  him.  He  was  married,  too.  Perhaps, 
a  little  later  on,  it  would  come  about  that  the  two 
wives  would  meet.  If  Mrs.  Trask  was  half  as 
good  a  fellow  as  her  husband,  their  acquaintance 
would  be  a  great  acquisition  for  them  both. 

All  evening  long  he  could  talk  of  nothing  else 
but  his  new  friend  and  the  fine  time  he  had  had. 
It  may  be  imagined  what  tortures  the  unhappy 
woman  was  compelled  to  endure  with  a  smiling 
face. 

Realising  that  she  must  obtain  a  little  rest,  her 
fear  of  betraying  herself  while  asleep  augmented 
rather  than  allayed,  she  had  that  night  for  the 
first  time  in  all  their  married  life  occupied  a  sepa- 
rate room.  Indeed  she  continued  to  do  so  for 
several  weeks,  on  the  ground  that  she  was  not 
feeling  herself  and  that  she  was  too  nervous  to 
sleep  quietly  and  would  only  disturb  him. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  she  was  a  little  less 
fearful,  or  perhaps  she  had  become  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  weight  of  her  old  burden.  At  any 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER       217 

rate,  she  felt  that  she  had  herself  once  more  in 
hand. 

Then,  too,  she  learned,  with  what  relief  may  be 
imagined,  that  Trask  had  gone  on  an  extended 
tour  through  the  West  to  inspect  some  mining 
properties  in  which  he  had  a  large  interest.  She 
had  reached  the  stage  now  when  every  day  that 
she  was  without  fear,  was  a  day  gained. 

And  then  came  her  husband's  business  difficul- 
ties. It  is  unnecessary  to  go  into  the  matter  in 
this  narrative.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  Strickland 
became  involved  through  no  fault  of  his  own.  It 
is  certain  that  he  was  greatly  worried.  But  to 
her — and  she  frequently  reproached  herself  with 
selfishness — this  new  trial  was  a  welcome  relief. 
It  gave  her  occupation  for  her  mind.  No  detail 
of  the  complication  was  unknown  to  her.  She 
counselled  and  advised  with  him  on  every  slight- 
est step. 

Then  came  the  welcome  offer  from  Cleveland. 
It  drove  her  almost  delirious  with  joy.  To  her, 
it  spelled  escape.  But  she  could  not  fire  her  hus- 
band with  her  own  enthusiasm.  It  was  an  experi- 
ment at  best.  And  he  did  not  feel  that  a  man 


2i8  ON  TRIAL 

with  a  wife  and  child  had  the  right  to  make  ex- 
periments. For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  now 
that  she  had  so  much  at  stake,  she  found  that  her 
influence  was  not  strong  enough  to  over-ride  his 
opposition. 

In  vain  she  pointed  out  that  poverty  meant 
nothing  to  her.  The  one  thing  in  life  that 
counted  was  that  they  should  be  together.  What 
difference  where  it  was"?  What  if  they  should 
have  to  scrimp  and  save  for  a  year  or  two?  It 
would  give  her  the  opportunity  she  had  often 
longed  for;  to  show  him  what  a  thoroughly  good 
housewife  she  really  was.  But,  no.  His  man's 
pride  took  alarm  at  the  idea  of  having  to  reduce 
their  scale  of  living.  He  would  not  hear  of  her 
having  to  do  her  own  work.  In  the  first  place 
she  was  not  strong  enough  for  it.  And  then,  how 
it  would  look ! 

Then  there  was  another  reason.  If  he  accepted 
the  offer,  he  would  have  to  go  leaving  debts  be- 
hind. Of  course  they  could  be  paid  off  later,  if 
everything  turned  out  as  well  as  it  promised.  But, 
just  the  same,  he  didn't  like  to  go  away  and  leave 
them.  With  what  he  would  be  able  to  save  from 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      219 

the  wreck  of  his  business,  and  ten  thousand  dollars 
more,  he  could  face  the  world  a  free  man  with 
enough  of  a  surplus  to  give  him  heart  for  the  new 
venture.  He  went  on  to  Cleveland  to  see  if  it 
could  be  arranged.  But  the  best  he  could  do  was 
to  obtain  a  promise  that  the  money  would  be 
forthcoming  a  little  later.  With  the  fulfilment 
of  this  promise  as  a  condition,  he  closed  with  the 
Cleveland  people,  and  their  departure  in  a  few 
weeks'  time  seemed  an  assured  fact. 

In  the  meantime,  Trask's  return  was  the  sig- 
nal of  a  renewal  of  their  intimacy.  Marking 
time,  as  he  was  more  or  less  doing,  Strickland  had 
more  leisure  for  meeting  his  friend.  Several 
times  he  suggested  their  asking  him  to  dinner. 
But  she  always  managed  to  make  some  excuse. 
Finally,  he  one  day  playfully  threatened  to  bring 
him  home  some  night  unexpectedly  to  take  "Pot 
Luck"  with  them. 

This  was  too  much.  It  may  be  said  to  have 
been  the  occasion  of  their  first  serious  quarrel. 
She  became  absolutely  hysterical,  and  reproached 
him  bitterly  with  a  lack  of  consideration.  He 
was  both  frightened  and  astonished  at  this  out- 


220  ON  TRIAL 

burst,  which,  however,  he  fortunately  attributed 
to  fatigue  and  nerves. 

But  she  was  to  have  a  still  narrower  escape. 
He  was  as  determined  as  ever  to  bring  about  a 
meeting  between  his  wife  and  his  friend.  Chanc- 
ing to  meet  Trask  one  day  in  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon  not  far  from  the  house,  he  had  insisted 
on  carrying  him  off  home  if  only  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  to  meet  the  finest  little  woman  in  the 
world. 

As  it  happened  she  had  been  indoors  all  day 
sewing  on.  some  garments  for  the  child.  Seeing 
that  she  was  about  to  run  short  of  some  necessary 
material,  and  wishing  to  finish  the  garment  before 
dinner  time,  she  had  slipped  out  herself  to  re- 
plenish her  supply  of  the  desired  article  at  a  little 
shop  in  the  neighbourhood.  She  had  just  turned 
the  corner  on  her  way  back,  when  she  saw  her  hus- 
band and  Gerald  Trask  going  up  the  steps  of  the 
apartment  house. 

She  had  darted  into  the  hall-way  of  the  apart- 
ment across  the  street.  From  that  safe  shelter 
she  had  watched  her  own  house  until  she  saw 
Trask  come  out.  She  looked  greedily  to  see  what 


AN  OMINOUS  ENCOUNTER      221 

changes  time  had  written  upon  his  face.  She  had 
to  confess  to  herself  that  he  looked  as  he  had  al- 
ways looked. 

Having  given  the  coloured  hall-boy  a  half  dol- 
lar, which  she  rightly  judged  he  would  consider 
the  most  satisfactory  explanation  for  her  visit,  she 
went  across  to  her  home.  Curiously  enough,  she 
regarded  this  narrow  escape  as  a  good  omen. 

But  she  was  not  to  keep  her  faith  in  omens  for 
long.  The  next  evening  her  husband  told  her 
that  he  had  come  to  an  arrangement  with  Trask, 
whereby  Trask  was  to  advance  the  necessary  ten 
thousand  dollars,  taking  Strickland's  note  at  thirty 
days  for  the  same. 

"Robert,  Robert,  how  could  you  without  at 
first  telling  me !"  was  all  she  could  find  to  say. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    PRICE    OF    SAFETY 

THAT  was  on  the  22nd  of  May. 

The  effect  of  this  new  complication  was  light- 
ened by  the  news  that  Trask  had  gone  away  on 
another  trip.  Southward  this  time,  to  inspect 
some  railroads.  Nevertheless,  she  saw  May  melt 
into  June,  and  June  draw  towards  the  important 
22nd  with  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  and  bewilder- 
ment. 

Never  had  she  known  her  husband  to  take  a 
business  obligation  with  such  seeming  lightness. 
Upon  the  several  occasions  when  she  had  ques- 
tioned him  as  to  where  he  was  to  find  funds  to 
meet  the  note,  he  had  answered  that  the  Cleve- 
land people  were  sure  to  "come  through"  before 
that;  and  if  they  didn't,  Trask  was  too  good  a  fel- 
low to  push  things. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  that  he  was  se- 
cretly considerably  worried  over  the  delay  in  get- 
ting his  Cleveland  matters  settled  up.  But  think- 


222 


THE  PRICE  OF  SAFETY          223 

ing  that  she  had  enough  to  contend  with  in 
supervising  all  the  many  preparations  for  so  im- 
portant a  move,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that, 
come  what  might,  she  should  not  have  the  matter 
of  the  meeting  of  the  note  added  to  her  load. 
(This,  I  may  add,  I  learned  later  from  the  lips  of 
Strickland  himself.  But  it  seems  only  just  that 
I  should  mention  it  here.) 

It  is  only  natural  that  in  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  Mrs.  Strickland  found  herself,  she  should 
have  read  all  sorts  of  meanings  into  her  husband's 
unusual  actions.  Why  should  he  count  on  any 
special  leniency  in  a  man  whose  reputation  for 
hardness  in  business  dealings  was  proverbial? 
She  could  find  no  answer  to  the  question. 

Or  again:  was  it  not  that  Trask's  evil  influ- 
ence— and  she  knew  that  his  influence  could  never 
be  anything  but  evil — was  acting  on  her  husband 
in  a  way  to  lead  him  to  consult  less  with  his  wife 
about  business  affairs?  She  knew  there  were  men 
who  never  took  their  wives  into  their  confidence, 
who  deprecated  women  meddling  with  business, 
as  they  described  it.  And  Trask,  she  felt  sure, 
would  be  just  the  man  to  hold  with  such  opinions. 


224  ON  TRIAL 

And  while  she  was  taxing  her  brain  with  these 
and  similar  questions,  the  22nd  was  drawing 
nearer. 

Whether  it  was  on  the  nineteenth,  or  the  twen- 
tieth that  Strickland  decided  suddenly  to  go  again 
to  Cleveland,  Mrs.  Strickland  could  not  recall. 
The  fact  of  her  inability  to  do  so  seemed  to  worry 
her  greatly,  but  I  assured  her  that  in  my  opinion 
it  was  of  no  great  importance.  If  it  turned  out 
that  it  should  be,  I  had  no  doubt  that  the  exact 
date  would  come  back  to  her  at  need. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  she  was  covering  a  great 
deal  of  important  ground  in  her  own  way,  which 
was  just  what  I  wanted.  Providing  always  that 
she  was  not  deceiving  herself  in  believing  that  she 
would  be  able  to  be  present  at  the  trial  the  fol- 
lowing day,  I  would  know  how  to  confine  her  re- 
cital to  the  points  I  wanted. 

At  all  events,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  he 
decided  to  go.  When  she  ventured  to  remind  him 
that  the  note  would  fall  due  before  the  day  he 
was  planning  for  his  return,  he  lightly  dismissed 
the  matter,  saying  he  would  drop  Trask  a  line  ex- 
plaining that  he  had  been  unexpectedly  called  out 


THE  PRICE  OF  SAFETY          225 

of  town,  and  would  take  up  the  note  on  his  return, 
which  would  not  be  later  than  the  24th. 

There  were  one  or  two  little  matters  that  he 
left  for  his  wife  to  attend  to.  Among  them,  was 
the  question  of  the  bids  of  two  rival  firms  engaged 
in  the  business  of  packing  and  moving  household 
furniture.  In  Strickland's  judgment  both  bids 
were  too  high.  He  had  telephoned  both  of  the 
houses,  making  them  a  final  offer.  They  had 
promised  to  take  the  matter  under  advisement, 
and  let  him  know  their  decision  immediately.  If 
they  wrote  him  to  the  house,  she  was  to  open  the 
letters  and  decide  the  matter  for  herself.  But, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  he  fancied  that  their 
representatives  would  be  more  likely  to  call  in 
person. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  22nd,  while  she 
was  lying  down  in  her  own  room,  that  the  maid 
came  to  her  to  say  that  some  one  had  called  to 
see  Mr.  Strickland.  Before  saying  that  he  was 
out  of  town,  she  had  waited  to  consult  her  mistress. 

If  she  had  not  believed  that  Gerald  Trask  was 
still  in  the  South,  she  might  have  sent  the  maid 
back  with  a  question  as  to  his  name  and  business. 


226  ON  TRIAL 

Even  if  she  had  remembered  that  it  was  the  22nd 
— and  she  confessed  that  the  day  of  the  month 
was  the  thing  furthest  from  her  mind — she  might 
have  been  more  on  her  guard. 

But  as  it  was,  she  supposed  that  it  was  a  man 
from  one  of  the  two  furniture  houses.  Sending 
back  word  that  Mr.  Strickland  was  from  home, 
but  that  Mrs.  Strickland  would  be  with  him  in  a 
minute,  she  stopped  only  long  enough  to  glance 
in  the  mirror  to  see  if  she  had  disarranged  her 
hair  in  lying  down,  and  went  across  the  hall  to 
the  little  drawing-room. 

And  there,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  man- 
tel-piece, facing  the  door,  stood  Gerald  Trask. 

Of  the  two,  he  was  the  more  astonished.  Mrs. 
Strickland  never  doubted  that.  He  could  never 
have  simulated  such  genuine  amazement.  She 
had  an  impulse  to  fly  to  the  shelter  of  her  own 
room  and  lock  herself  in,  to  shriek  for  the  maid 
to  come  to  her  assistance.  But  if  her  life  had 
depended  upon  it,  she  could  not  have  called  for 
help,  much  less  moved. 

"By  God!  If  it  isn't  little  May  Deane !"  said 
Gerald  Trask. 


THE  PRICE  OF  SAFETY          227 

And  then,  while  she  watched  him  with  terrified, 
fascinated  eyes,  he  suddenly  began  to  laugh.  It 
was  a  dreadful  laugh.  For  it  was  a  laugh  with- 
out sound.  He  was  so  convulsed  with  silent  mer- 
riment that  his  face  became  crimson,  his  breath 
came  in  great  gasps,  his  body  shook  with  this  hor- 
rible, silent  mirth  until  perforce,  he  had  to  bury 
his  distorted  face  in  his  hands,  turning  his  back 
on  her  and  resting  his  elbows  on  the  mantel-piece 
in  front  of  him.  When  he  turned  to  her  again, 
he  was  fumbling  in  his  pocket  to  find  his  handker- 
chief to  wipe  his  streaming  eyes. 

And  as  she  watched  the  progress  of  this  horrible 
paroxysm,  whatever  little  spark  of  hope  still 
burned  in  her  breast,  flickered  and  died.  Only  a 
beast  incarnate  could  have  laughed  like  that! 

"One  moment,"  she  found  herself  saying.  "I 
wish  to  give  my  maid  an  order." 

She  went  out  to  the  kitchen,  and  told  Bertha 
to  give  the  child  her  supper.  She  would  let  her 
know  when  she  was  ready  for  her  own  dinner. 
She  would  be  engaged  with  her  caller  for  some  lit- 
tle time. 

When  she  returned,  he  was  sitting  very  erect 


228  ON  TRIAL 

in  the  tall  chair  by  the  writing  desk.  At  the  sight 
of  her,  he  showed  symptoms  of  a  return  of  his 
fearful  mirth.  But  the  look  in  her  face  checked 
him. 

"So  you  are  the  wife  of  my  dear  friend,  Robert 
Strickland?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  am  Robert  Strickland's  wife. 
What  then?" 

"What  then?"  he  mocked.  "I  haven't  decided 
yet.  But  you  must  admit  it's  a  stupendous  joke." 

"I  fear  I  haven't  your  keen  sense  of  humour," 
she  said  icily. 

And  then  she  added:  "What  brings  you  here 
to  his  house?" 

She  was  affecting  a  courage  she  was  far  from 
feeling.  In  another  moment,  she  realised  her  mis- 
take. An  evil  look  which  she  remembered  only 
too  well  came  into  his  eyes. 

"It  occurs  to  me  that  in  the  circumstances  you 
are  treating  yourself  to  a  good  many  airs,"  he 
sneered. 

"In  the  circumstances?" 

"Yes.     Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  I  hold 


THE  PRICE  OF  SAFETY          229 

your  husband's  note  for  ten  thousand  dollars,  and 
that  that  note  is  due  to-day?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  know  all  about  it." 

"No  doubt  he  left  the  money  with  you,  then." 

"No.  He  left  me  no  money.  But  he  wrote 
you  that  he  had  been  called  away,  and  that  he 
would  return  by  the  24th  and  take  up  the  note." 

"I  haven't  been  to  the  bank.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  just  stepped  off  the  train  within  the  hour. 
I  was  on  my  way  home  when  I  remembered  about 
the  note.  I  little  knew  the  delightful  surprise 
that  was  waiting  for  me." 

He  left  his  chair  to  cross  over  where  he  could 
stand  looking  down  at  her.  It  seemed  an  eternity 
before  he  spoke  again. 

"But  having  found  this  delightful  surprise,  I 
have  changed  my  mind  in  regard  to  the  note.  It 
is  to  you  that  I  will  look  for  the  payment." 

"To  me?" 

"Yes;  to  you." 

Again  a  long  silence  fell  between  them. 

"I  haven't  forgotten  the  damnable  scrape  you 
got  me  into  once;  the  worst  scrape  I  ever  got  into 


230  ON  TRIAL 

in  all  my  life.  And  it  was  you  and  your  damned 
old  father  that  got  me  into  it!" 

"Don't,"  she  protested.  "My  poor  father  died 
— shortly  afterwards.  It  killed  him." 

"I  wish  he'd  died  before  ever  I  saw  him,"  he 
said  brutally.  "I  tell  you,  it  cost  me  a  pretty 
penny,  and  the  worst  of  it  is  I  haven't  done  pay- 
ing yet.  Every  time  my  delightful  wife  and  I 
have  a  rumpus — which  is  about  once  in  six  weeks, 
or  so — she  rakes  the  whole  thing  up  again ;  threat- 
ens divorce,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Of  course, 
I  can't  let  her  do  that.  It  might  hurt  me  in  a 
business  way.  People  are  such  fools !  So  I  have 
to  buy  her  off,  one  way  or  another.  I  swore  years 
ago  that  I  would  make  you  and  your  father  pay 
for  it.  But  now  it  seems  you  must  pay  alone.  I 
always  keep  my  word." 

"You've  changed,  then."  For  the  life  of  her, 
she  couldn't  have  kept  back  the  words. 

"Well,  we'll  let  it  go  at  that,"  he  said. 

Then  he  brutally  told  her  how  he  would  be 
paid.  She  begged  and  implored  him  to  spare  her. 
She  actually  went  down  on  her  knees  to  him.  She 
might  as  well  have  knelt  to  the  fire-irons. 


THE  PRICE  OF  SAFETY          231 

He  told  her  that  he  would  ruin  both  her  and 
her  husband,  financially,  as  well  as  every  other 
way.  He  taunted  her  with  the  fact  that  her  long 
silence  only  made  it  all  the  easier  for  him.  What 
man  would  ever  believe  a  woman  who  had  de- 
ceived him  for  years,  as  she  had  done  her  hus- 
band? In  her  heart,  she  knew  that  he  was  right. 

Before  he  left  her,  he  went  over  to  the  writing- 
desk  and  wrote  down  the  address  of  his  house  in 
Long  Branch.  She  was  to  join  him  there  the  next 
day.  That  was  his  price. 

Flinging  the  paper,  on  which  he  had  written  the 
address  in  her  lap,  he  left  her  still  sitting  quietly 
in  her  big  chair. 

Presently  she  got  up  and  going  over  to  the  desk, 
took  from  a  drawer  her  little  black  velvet  purse. 
Mechanically,  she  opened  it,  and  dropped  the 
paper  inside.  When  she  clicked  it  shut,  the  noise 
hurt  her  head. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    WOMAN    AT    BAY 

SHE  had  returned  on  the  4.17  train. 

On  the  way  down  in  the  morning,  she  had 
actually  had  a  faint  hope  that  he  might  only  have 
brought  her  down  to  frighten  her.  He  couldn't 
mean  it,  he  couldn't!  Such  things  didn't  happen 
outside  of  penny-dreadfuls.  There  were  bounds 
which  even  he  would  not  dare  to  pass.  He  would 
remember  that  she  was  a  mother  now.  And  even 
if  he  were  willing  to  dishonour  his  friend,  he  could 
not  ask  her  to  disgrace  her  child. 

She  did  not  dare  ask  her  way  at  the  station. 
She  remembered  vaguely  that  he  had  said  that  it 
wasn't  far.  She  waited  until  she  was  a  whole 
block  away  before  she  ventured  to  ask  a  boy  driv- 
ing a  butcher  cart. 

Although  she  kept  repeating  to  herself  that  it 
was  only  a  cruel  hoax — that  this  was  his  way  of 
paying  her  off  for  the  trouble  that  he  chose  to 

pretend  she  and  her  father  had  gotten  him  into 

232 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  233 

years  before,  her  knees  were  knocking  so  that  she 
could  hardly  go  up  the  steps  to  the  porch. 

The  return  journey  was  a  blank.  She  remem- 
bered finding  her  way  blindly  back  to  the  station, 
and  buying  her  ticket.  Then  some  one  had  told 
her  that  the  train  just  pulling  in  was  the  one  she 
was  to  take.  That  was  all. 

In  the  same  dazed  way  she  must  have  engaged 
a  taxi.  She  had  no  recollection  of  doing  so.  All 
she  remembered  was  that  she  suddenly  awoke  to 
a  consciousness  that  the  hall-boy  at  her  own  house 
was  holding  open  the  door  for  her.  She  would 
have  gone  on  in  without  even  turning  her  head, 
had  not  the  chauffeur  reminded  her  that  she  had 
not  paid  her  fare. 

She  searched  her  little  hand-bag  for  her  purse 
— she  remembered  afterwards  that  it  was  open — 
but  it  wasn't  there.  It  was  stupid  of  her;  she 
certainly  thought  she  had  taken  it  with  her  in  the 
morning.  Telling  the  boy  to  pay  the  fare  for  her, 
and  not  to  forget  to  give  the  chauffeur  his  tip,  she 
went  on  upstairs,  not  waiting  for  the  elevator. 

Doris  had  greeted  her  rapturously.  She  had 
not  seen  her  darling  mamma  since  early  that  morn- 


234  ON  TRIAL 

ing.  And  there  was  a  letter  that  had  Cleveland 
on  it  which  had  been  waiting  ever  so  long. 

As  she  felt  her  child's  lips  on  her  own,  she  was 
taken  with  a  fit  of  shuddering.  Fortunately 
Doris  was  already  running  back  to  the  kitchen  to 
tell  Bertha  that  her  mother  had  returned. 

Her  eye  fell  on  her  husband's  letter  lying  on  the 
table  before  her.  Doris  was  right.  Cleveland 
was  certainly  stamped  on  it.  Cleveland?  Oh, 
yes;  that  was  the  place  they  had  once  thought  of 
going  to — were  going  to,  before — 

She  opened  the  letter  and  read  it  straight 
through  from  end  to  end.  It  was  not  long.  And 
then  she  realised  that  she  had  taken  in  nothing 
that  she  had  read,  but  the  one  statement  that  he 
would  be  home  on  the  following  day,  but  not  in 
time  for  dinner. 

At  this  moment  the  child  came  back,  dancing 
along  the  hall.  She  told  her  the  good  news,  and 
at  once  she  was  besieged  with  questions  as  to  when 
they  would  go  away,  what  the  new  house  was  like, 
and  whether  or  not  Doris  could  take  all  her  doll- 
babies  with  her  on  the  train.  To  them  all,  she 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  235 

said  that  she  did  not  know.  She  would  have  to 
wait  until  Daddy  came.  He  would  tell  her. 

And  then  she  explained  that  Mamma  had  one 
of  her  dreadful  headaches,  and  didn't  want  any 
dinner,  not  even  a  cup  of  tea.  She  was  going  to 
bed.  Bertha  could  give  Doris  her  supper  when- 
ever it  was  ready.  But  she  must  be  very  quiet. 

Once  in  her  room,  she  tossed  her  hat  and  hand- 
bag on  a  chair,  and  then  went  over  and  locked  the 
door.  Without  even  taking  off  her  shoes,  she 
threw  herself  on  the  bed,  her  face  buried  in  the 
pillows.  And  then,  she  let  the  storm  sweep  over 
her.  It  had  taken  her  child's  innocent  kiss  to 
bring  her  back  to  a  realisation  of  what  had  hap- 
pened ! 

It  was  nearly  morning  when  she  got  up  and  un- 
dressed properly.  She  remembered  to  unlock  her 
door  before  getting  into  bed.  When  Bertha, 
opening  it  ever  so  quietly,  looked  in  on  her  at 
breakfast  time,  she  was  still  sleeping  heavily. 

All  day  she  felt  heavy  and  languid.  Doris 
was,  of  course,  all  excitement  over  her  daddy's 
home-coming.  Yes,  she  could  sit  up  to  see  him, 


236  ON  TRIAL 

but  not  for  long.  No,  Mamma  would  not  tell 
him  anything  about  her  having  passed  her  exami- 
nations so  well ;  Doris  should  tell  him  that  herself. 

In  the  afternoon,  while  Bertha  was  taking  the 
child  for  her  walk,  she  suddenly  began  to  cry 
again.  But  she  reminded  herself  that  her  hus- 
band was  coming.  She  must  stop  crying  and  re- 
move the  traces  of  her  tears.  She  had  all  her 
life  to  cry  in.  She  could  cry  every  day  when  she 
was  alone.  But  now  she  must  drive  all  thought 
of  it  out  of  her  mind.  She  must  be  gay  and 
cheerful,  and  try  to  interest  herself  in  all  the  de- 
tails of  the  new  house  he  had  written  about.  She 
hoped  it  didn't  have  steps  leading  up  to  a  porch. 

And  she  must  begin  right  now  to  school  her- 
self. She  must  be  more  on  her  guard  than  ever 
before,  until  they  should  really  get  away  from 
New  York  and  everything  connected  with  it.  Oh, 
if  they  were  only  going  still  further!  Far,  far 
away,  to  another  country,  another  continent,  even. 
They  could  not  go  too  far  for  her. 

The  first  thing  was  to  arrange  in  her  mind  what 
she  had  been  doing  all  the  day  before.  Oh,  yes; 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  237 

she  had  been  shopping.  How  stupid  of  her  to 
forget  that  that  was  the  reason  she  had  given  for 
sending  Doris  up  to  her  aunt's. 

That  reminded  her  that  she  must  make  a  list 
of  things  that  had  to  be  bought  for  Doris.  She 
might  just  as  well  make  it  out  now  while  the 
needed  articles  were  fresh  in  her  mind.  She  went 
over  to  the  little  desk  in  the  drawing-room. 

The  first  thing  her  eye  fell  upon  was  a  sheet  of 
writing  paper  torn  across  the  middle.  The  sheet 
upon  which  he  had —  Good  God !  That  address 
in  his  writing  was  still  in  her  purse.  She  rushed 
back  to  her  room,  forgetting  her  list. 

Her  hand-bag  was  still  lying  on  the  chair  where 
she  had  tossed  it  when  she  came  in  the  evening 
before.  She  plunged  her  hand  into  its  depths, 
searching  for  her  purse,  her  little  black  velvet 
purse  with  the  gold  clasp.  It  must  be  there. 
She  turned  out  the  contents  of  the  hand-bag  into 
her  lap.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  the  purse. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  began  pacing  up 
and  down  the  room,  her  fingers  pressed  against  her 
temples.  She  was  going  to  be  perfectly  calm 


238  ON  TRIAL 

about  it.  She  was  not  going  to  let  herself  get  ex- 
cited. She  must  go  back,  step  by  step,  until  she 
could  recall  when  she  had  had  her  purse  last. 

She  had  driven  up  from  the  station  in  a  taxi. 
She  remembered  telling  the  boy  downstairs  to  pay 
the  fare  for  her.  And  she  had  told  him  to,  be- 
cause she  had  missed  her  purse  then.  Now  she 
remembered  that  her  hand-bag  was  open  when  she 
got  out  of  the  cab.  The  purse  must  have  fallen 
out.  But  where?  Where*?  When  had  she  seen 
it  last?  Wait  a  minute.  Now  she  had  it,  of 
course.  When  she  was  buying  her  ticket  in  the 
station  at  Long  Branch.  She  must  have  dropped 
it  then.  She  would  telephone  to  the  Station  Mas- 
ter. That  was  the  thing  to  do. 

She  was  a  long  time  getting  him.  It  seemed  as 
if  everybody  in  the  country  had  been  inspired  with 
the  same  desire  to  talk  with  the  Station  Master 
at  Long  Branch.  When  she  did  finally  succeed, 
the  result  was  not  very  satisfactory. 

"Hello!  Hello!  Is  this  the  Station  Master 
at  Long  Branch? 

"This  is  Mrs.  Robert  Strickland  of  New  York 
City  speaking.  Yes;  Mrs.  Robert  Strickland. 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  239 

S-t-r-i-c-k-1-a-n-d.  That's  right.  Have  you 
found  a  purse  belonging  to  me?  Describe  it? 
Very  well.  A  small  black  velvet —  You  say 
you  haven't  found  any  purse.  Oh,  this  isn't  the 
Station  Master?  Well,  when  will  he  be  there? 
Very  well;  I'll  call  up  later." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  she  called  up  again. 
This  time  she  found  the  man  she  was  asking  for, 
but  he  had  seen  or  heard  nothing  of  her  purse, 
which  she  told  him  contained  about  forty  dollars 
in  money  and  several  of  her  cards.  He  referred 
her  to  the  Lost  Articles  Clerk  at  the  station  in 
Jersey  City. 

In  the  meantime  she  had  another  idea.  She 
might  have  lost  it  in  the  taxi.  Calling  up  the 
hall  boy  she  asked  him  if  he  could  tell  her  to 
which  company  the  cab  belonged  in  which  she  had 
come  home  the  day  before.  But  a  different  boy 
was  on  duty.  The  other  one  would  not  be  back 
until  after  six  o'clock. 

Bertha  and  Doris  returning  just  then,  put  a  stop 
to  any  further  attempts  for  the  time  being.  The 
excitement  and  worry  had  brought  back  her 
wretched  headache.  Having  told  Bertha  to 


240  ON  TRIAL 

darken  her  room,  she  went  again  to  lie  down  for 
a  while. 

She  must  have  fallen  asleep,  for  when  she 
looked  at  her  watch,  it  was  nearly  time  for  her 
husband  to  be  there.  She  must  try  to  get  the  Jer- 
sey City  man  before  he  returned.  Doris  was  not 
in  the  drawing-room.  Probably  she  was  out  in 
the  kitchen  talking  with  Bertha. 

This  time  she  did  not  have  to  wait.  The  line 
was  free.  She  told  all  the  particulars  of  her  loss, 
described  the  purse  and  its  contents,  laying  par- 
ticular stress  that  it  held  some  extremely  impor- 
tant memoranda,  and  wound  up  with  saying  that 
she  thought  that  she  had  lost  it  at  the  station  at 
Long  Branch. 

As  she  hung  up  the  receiver,  she  screamed  with 
fright.  Doris  was  standing  at  her  elbow.  The 
child  laughed  merrily.  To  have  so  startled  her 
mother  seemed  to  her  the  greatest  kind  of  a  joke. 
After  a  second,  she  was  able  to  join  in  her  laugh- 
ter; at  least  the  counterfeit  was  sufficiently  good 
to  deceive  the  child. 

And  then  she  explained  that  on  no  account 
must  Daddy  be  told  of  the  loss  of  the  purse.  It 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  241 

would  only  worry  him,  and  do  no  good.  The 
child  promised,  but  one  could  see  that  she  was 
puzzling  her  little  head  with  some  other  question. 
Finally  it  came  out.  How  could  her  mother  have 
been  at  Long  Branch  when  she  had  been  shopping 
all  day? 

She  hadn't.  It  was  a  friend  of  hers  to  whom 
she  had  lent  the  purse,  who  had  lost  it  at  Long 
Branch.  She  found  herself  almost  stammering 
over  this  lie.  She  must  learn  to  do  better.  She 
might  have  to  tell  dozens — hundreds — before  she 
was  through  with  it. 

And  then  she  heard  the  dearest  voice  in  all  the 
world  out  in  the  hall  saying:  "Hello,  Bertha, 
how  are  you?" 

In  another  moment  she  was  in  his  arms. 

Presently  she  discovered  that  he  hadn't  had  his 
dinner  after  all.  Doris  had  had  hers  especially 
early,  and  she,  herself,  had  been  contented  with  a 
cup  of  tea.  For  the  last  two  days,  food  had 
choked  her.  She  went  out  to  the  kitchen  to  super- 
intend the  getting  of  some  sort  of  a  lunch  for  him. 
While  she  was  in  the  pantry  the  door  bell  rang. 
She  heard  Bertha  go  to  answer  it,  but  she  was  too 


242  ON  TRIAL 

busily  occupied  with  her  own  thoughts  to  remem- 
ber to  ask  her  who  it  had  been. 

Just  as  she  had  completed  her  preparations, 
Doris  came  running  into  the  kitchen. 

"Daddy  says  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Trask  is  here, 
and  that  you're  to  come  on  in." 

Strangely  enough,  this  did  not  frighten  her  as 
much  as  one  might  have  supposed.  Not  that  she 
trusted  Trask,  or  his  word,  but  she  had  a  moment's 
clear  vision  which  showed  her  that  he  had  nothing 
to  gain  by  betraying  her  at  this  time.  It  was  the 
note  he  had  come  about.  And  her  husband  had 
embraced  this  long  desired  opportunity  to  bring 
about  the  meeting  between  them.  That  was  all. 

But  at  the  mere  sight  of  the  man,  her  very  flesh 
revolted.  If  all  she  had  fought  for  so  long  had 
been  at  stake,  she  could  not  have  spoken  a  word. 
She  acknowledged  his  presence  with  a  cold  bow. 

Fortunately,  he  was  just  going.  He  should 
have  been  home  before.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
had  been  away  since  the  night  before.  He  had 
only  stopped  a  moment  in  accordance  with  his 
friend's  telegraphed  request.  So  that  was  it. 
Robert  had  sent  him  a  telegram.  He  seemed  in 


©    White,  New  York. 

And    then    had    followed    lies,    and    more    lies,    and    then 

more  lies 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  243 

the  best  of  humours,  so  the  matter  of  the  note  must 
have  been  satisfactorily  arranged. 

She  took  the  opportunity,  however,  as  Robert 
was  accompanying  him  to  the  door  to  whisper  to 
Doris : 

"Doris,  dear,  was  he — Mr.  Trask — here  long?" 

Doris  thought  that  he  had  been  there  an  aw- 
fully long  time.  They  had  talked  and  talked. 
And  Mr.  Trask  had  asked  Daddy  to  go  fishing 
Sunday  down  at  Long  Branch. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  funny  if  Mr.  Trask  found  your 
purse,  Mamma?"  she  added. 

Her  husband  coming  in  a  moment  later,  and 
Doris  having  been  sent  off  to  bed  in  spite  of  her 
protests,  Mrs.  Strickland  found  her  first  oppor- 
tunity to  ask  about  the  note. 

For  reply,  her  husband  drew  it  from  his  pocket. 
He  had  carefully  torn  off  his  signature  from  the 
bottom.  But  it  had  been  paid,  actually  paid. 
The  Cleveland  people  had  kept  their  word  nobly. 
His  debt  was  wiped  out.  But  even  while  she  was 
listening  to  his  account  of  his  good  fortune,  and 
how  everything  looked  positively  rose-coloured  for 
the  future,  she  was  saying  to  herself: 


244  ON  TRIAL 

"Then  he  couldn't  have  ruined  him,  after  all !" 

She  betrayed  the  greatest  eagerness  to  get  away. 
When  did  he  think  they  could  start?  There  was 
no  great  hurry.  He  wasn't  going  to  have  her 
tiring  herself  out  rushing  things.  Suppose  they 
said  two  weeks.  But  she  wouldn't  need  half  that 
time.  He  reminded  her  that  there  would  be  many 
little  purchases  to  make.  She,  for  example, 
would  have  to  have  a  travelling  dress.  She  would 
get  one  ready-made.  That  reminded  him  that 
Doris  had  said  that  her  mamma  had  been  shopping 
all  the  day  before,  a  report  that  she  confirmed. 

Just  then  the  bell  rang,  and  Bertha  appeared  a 
moment  later  to  say  that  a  Mr.  Burke  wanted  to 
see  Mrs.  Strickland. 

I  told  her  then  of  my  visit  to  Burke,  and  I 
found  that  their  two  accounts  agreed  down  to  the 
smallest  particular.  She  found  it  hard  to  say  just 
why  the  mere  sight  of  Burke's  good-natured, 
kindly  face  upset  her  so.  Possibly  it  was  because 
she  remembered  seeing  him  at  the  station  at  Long 
Branch  and  feared  that  his  memory  for  faces 
might  be  as  good  as  hers.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  had  not  seen  her  at  all.  He  is  gallant  enough 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  245 

to  say  that  if  he  had  seen  her  he  would  never  have 
forgotten  her  in  the  world. 

She  saw  as  soon  as  she  had  denied  losing  a  purse 
that  she  had  made  a  dreadful  mistake.  What 
would  have  been  more  simple  than  to  have 
claimed  the  purse  at  once,  and  watched  her  oppor- 
tunity to  destroy  the  incriminating  paper?  She 
could  easily  have  put  her  impromptu  trip  to  the 
seaside  down  to  a  whim  that  had  suddenly  seized 
her.  Her  husband  would  never  have  begrudged 
her  the  small  amount  of  money  that  the  outing 
would  have  cost.  But  when  she  thought  of  all 
this,  it  was  too  late. 

She  had  had  one  minute's  hope,  when  Burke  in 
a  fit  of  disgust,  had  started  to  go.  But  the  men- 
tion of  the  "Frenchy  black  purse"  by  her  husband, 
which  was  followed  up  by  Burke' s  producing  it, 
had  completely  thrown  her  off  her  balance  once 
more. 

And  then  had  followed  lies,  and  more  lies,  and 
then  more  lies!  Each  one  more  inane  and  fool- 
ish than  the  one  that  preceded  it.  She  couldn't 
even  begin  to  remember  what  she  had  said.  She 
was  losing  ground  each  minute,  growing  more 


246  ON  TRIAL 

desperate  in  consequence.  And  the  cruel  part  of 
it  all  was  that  the  man  for  whose  happiness  and 
peace  of  mind  she  was  contending  was  the  one 
who  was  torturing  her. 

Forced  to  admit  that  she  had  been  at  Long 
Branch  in  place  of  having  spent  her  day  in  shop- 
ping as  she  had  said,  she  at  first  declared  that  she 
had  gone  down  in  answer  to  the  appeal  of  an  old 
school  friend,  whom  she  confessed  that  she  hadn't 
seen  in  years,  who  was  desperately  ill. 

When  reminded  that  Burke  had  just  said  that 
he  had  gone  to  the  address  written  on  a  piece  of 
paper  he  had  found  in  the  bag  only  to  find  an  old 
caretaker  in  charge  of  an  empty  house,  she  had 
had  nothing  to  say.  She  couldn't  even  remember 
the  address  that  her  friend  had  lived  at;  neither 
the  number  nor  the  street.  Another  error,  as  she 
was  to  realise  in  a  moment. 

For  with  a  sudden  flash  of  memory,  her  hus- 
band had  recalled  something  familiar  about  206 
Henderson  Place,  of  which  Burke  had  just  spoken. 
How  was  she  to  know  that  when  Trask  had  asked 
him  to  join  him  on  his  fishing  trip  he  had  written 
down  that  very  address  on  a  card  which  he  had 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  247 

taken  from  his  case,  and  that  the  card  was  even 
now  in  her  husband's  pocket^ 

With  a  quick  movement  for  which  she  was 
totally  unprepared,  he  had  snatched  up  the  purse 
from  the  table  where  it  was  lying.  She  had  had 
no  opportunity  to  possess  herself  of  it  since  Robert 
had  taken  it  from  her  hand  to  count  the  money. 
Emptying  it  on  the  table,  he  had,  after  a  mo- 
ment's search,  found  the  thing  he  was  seeking,  the 
address  of  the  fictitious  friend.  And  her  friend's 
address  and  that  of  Gerald  Trask  were  one  and  the 
same — 206  Henderson  Place,  Long  Branch. 

In  her  desperation,  she  thought  of  a  new  lie. 
That  it  was  even  more  unconvincing  than  the  last, 
she  did  not  stop  to  consider.  And,  all  unthinking, 
she  was  preparing  the  worst  trap  of  all  for  herself, 
one  from  which  she  could  not  possibly  extricate 
herself. 

She  confessed  that  the  story  of  the  sick  friend 
was  all  a  stupid  subterfuge.  Of  course  that  was 
Mr.  Trask's  house.  Equally,  of  course,  she  had 
gone  down  there.  The  idea  of  doing  so  had  come 
to  her  when  she  first  knew  of  his  project  to  buy  a 
house  in  Cleveland.  He  must  remember  that  she 


248  ON  TRIAL 

had  never  in  all  her  life  lived  in  a  house.  Always 
it  had  been  a  city  apartment  that  she  had  called 
home. 

What  did  she  know  about  the  arrangement  of 
a  well  planned  house?  The  thought  of  trying  to 
arrange  one  had  appalled  her.  She  had  conceived 
the  idea  of  asking  Mr.  Trask's  permission  to  go 
down  to  Long  Branch  and  go  over  his  house.  She 
had  heard  that  the  family  were  still  in  the  city. 
So  she  had  telephoned  to  him  for  the  necessary 
permission.  He  had  given  his  consent,  and  she 
had  gone  down  and  been  shown  over  the  house 
by  the  old  caretaker.  The  whole  thing  had  been 
a  silly  impulse;  she  saw  that  now.  And  fearing 
her  husband's  displeasure,  she  had  lacked  the 
courage  to  tell  him  the  truth. 

He  listened  to  all  this  with  a  coldness  that 
chilled  her  heart.  When  she  had  finished,  his  face 
was  still  stern  and  hard.  But  he  managed  to  ask 
her  quite  carelessly  if  she  had  arranged  all  these 
details  over  the  telephone. 

Of  course  she  had. 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  that  he  didn't  mind  at  all." 


A  WOMAN  AT  BAY  249 

"And  he  gave  you  his  address?" 

"Yes." 

"Over  the  telephone?" 

"Yes." 

"That's  the  last  lie  you'll  tell  me!" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face  distorted  with 
passion. 

"Robert!"  she  screamed,  "what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  this  address  is  in  Trask's  hand- 
writing! Do  you  think  I  don't  know  his  reputa- 
tion where  women  are  concerned?" 

With  a  furious  gesture  he  rushed  over  to  his 
satchel  standing  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and 
took  from  it  his  revolver. 

The  rest  we  already  know. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MAY'S  FLIGHT 

IN  her  mad  flight  from  the  house,  she  had  had  but 
one  thought.  In  spite  of  the  ominous  sound  that 
had  come  to  her  ears  over  the  telephone,  there 
might  still  be  a  chance  that  she  would  get  there 
in  time. 

What  was  she  to  do?  She  did  not  know.  But 
at  any  and  all  costs  she  must  prevent  her  husband 
from  being  a  murderer.  She  had  no  thought  of 
herself.  She  would  admit  anything,  confess  any- 
thing, promise  anything.  She  would  gladly  go 
away  by  herself,  giving  up  husband  and  child, 
never  to  set  eyes  on  either  again.  She  would  even 
declare  that  she  had  gone  to  Trask  willingly. 
That  she  no  longer  loved  her  husband.  That  she 
had  been  deceiving  him  for  years.  That  she  had 
never  loved  him.  Anything!  Anything! 

She  would  make  herself  more  despicable  than 
any  woman  had  ever  been  since  the  world  began. 

The  blacker  she  made  herself  out  to  be,  the  better. 

250 


MAY'S  FLIGHT  251 

For  surely  no  man  would  take  the  life  of  another 
for  the  sake  of  a  woman  as  worthless  as  she  would 
show  herself  to  be. 

She  had  started  from  the  house,  running.  But 
she  found  that  she  was  attracting  the  attention  of 
a  policeman  on  the  corner.  He  might  stop  her, 
question  her,  detain  her.  She  could  not  risk  that. 
So  she  slowed  her  pace  down  to  a  fast  walk. 

A  strand  of  her  hair  which  was  insecurely  fas- 
tened, fell  over  her  shoulder.  She  was  conscious 
that  her  hat  had  no  pins,  and  that  it  sat  crookedly 
on  her  head.  Her  hands  were  bare.  She  had  not 
thought  of  her  gloves.  On  her  fingers  were  her 
two  rings;  her  engagement  and  her  wedding  ring. 
She  slipped  off  her  wedding  ring  and  wrapped  it 
in  the  handkerchief  that  was  clutched  in  one  hand. 
Whatever  happened,  that  she  would  keep. 

She  remembered  on  entering  the  avenue  that 
she  was  not  sure  on  which  corner  the  Trask  house 
stood.  She  looked  about  for  a  policeman  of 
whom  to  make  inquiries.  But  there  were  none  in 
sight.  As  she  stood  hesitating  which  way  to  go, 
she  began  to  cry  softly.  She  was  wasting  time, 
she  was  wasting  time!  And  every  moment  was 


252  ON  TRIAL 

precious.  Supposing,  after  all,  she  should  be  too 
late? 

Ah,  at  last !  A  policeman  came  hurrying  down 
the  avenue  towards  her.  She  ran  towards  him, 
and  asked  to  be  directed  to  the  house  of  Mr. 
Gerald  Trask,  the  banker.  The  officer  gave  her  a 
curious  look. 

"I'm  just  going  there  now.  There's  been  some 
trouble  there.  It's  that  house  there,"  he  pointed 
to  one  a  block  further  down.  "The  one  with  the 
garden." 

She  reined  in  the  impulse  to  hurry  along  with 
him.  He  had  looked  at  her  so  queerly  when  she 
asked  for  the  house.  But  when  he  was  a  short 
distance  down  the  street,  she  followed  swiftly 
after  him. 

Already  a  crowd  had  gathered  in  front  of  the 
house.  There  was  a  policeman  at  the  door.  She 
abandoned  her  first  idea  of  going  boldly  up  the 
steps  and  ringing  the  bell. 

Besides,  she  now  had  a  new  idea.  If  she  were 
too  late,  if  what  she  had  heard  in  the  telephone 
was  what  she  feared  it  was,  she  might  still  be  in 
time  to  aid  her  husband  to  escape. 


MAY'S  FLIGHT  253 

The  front  entrance  being  out  of, the  question, 
she  walked  down  the  garden  side  of  the  house. 
She  could  see  a  room  brilliantly  lighted  in  which 
a  number  of  persons  seemed  to  be  moving  excit- 
edly about. 

Ah!  Now,  she  had  it!  Why  had  she  not 
thought  of  it  before!  She  would  find  her  way 
into  the  house — it  would  be  a  simple  matter  from 
one  of  those  low  windows;  in  the  confusion  she 
could  slip  in  without  any  one  paying  any  atten- 
tion, without  a  doubt — and  give  herself  up  as  the 
person  who  had  fired  the  shot.  It  was  most  prob- 
able that  the  two  men  had  been  alone.  There 
would  have  been  no  one  to  witness  their  quarrel. 
And  if,  as  she  hoped,  her  husband  had  succeeded 
in  making  his  escape,  who  would  be  the  wiser? 
(The  chance  that  Trask  might  have  fired  the  shot 
she  had  heard  never  entered  her  head.) 

To  be  sure — and  she  thought  of  it  with  a  glow- 
ing heart — her  husband  would  be  certain  to  come 
back  and  give  himself  up  when  he  learned  what 
she  had  done.  But,  even  if  he  did,  her  story 
would  be  the  more  plausible  of  the  two.  She  had 
been  deeply  wronged  by  the  banker,  and  she  had 


254  ON  TRIAL 

revenged  herself.  It  would  be  perfectly  appar- 
ent that  he  was  prompted  by  his  natural  chivalry 
in  offering  to  take  the  onus  of  the  crime  on  his 
own  shoulders.  And  so,  she  would  be  able  to 
expiate  her  fault. 

If  any  one  saw  her  open  the  little  gate — which 
happened  to  be  unlocked — and  go  into  the  garden, 
they  were  not  sufficiently  interested  to  make  any 
move  to  prevent  her.  She  remembered  the  deli- 
cate perfume  of  the  jasmine  as  it  came  to  her  on 
the  evening  air. 

Still  unmolested,  she  reached  the  French  win- 
dows which  gave  her  a  view  of  the  room.  It  was 
a  large  room,  handsomely  furnished.  She  was 
surprised  at  the  number  of  people  who  were  there 
already.  There  were  officers  in  uniform,  and  per- 
sons who  looked  as  she  imagined  detectives  would 
look,  in  plain  clothes.  They  were  all  whispering 
together,  or  talking  in  low  tones.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  catch  what  they  said. 

Presently  she  noticed  a  woman  in  a  peignoir, 
lying  back  on  a  couch.  Her  face  was  very  pale. 
A  maid  was  bending  over  her,  and  a  young  man 
was  fanning  her.  Over  at  the  other  side  of  the 


MAY'S  FLIGHT  255 

room,  an  elderly  man  with  greying  hair  was  just 
rising  from  a  stooping  posture.  One  of  the  men 
in  uniform  apparently  asked  him  some  question, 
in  reply  to  which  he  shook  his  head.  He  pointed 
to  something  stretched  on  the  floor  beside  the 
table,  and  crossed  the  room  to  go  over  to  it. 

She  craned  her  neck  to  see  what  he  had  been 
doing  when  she  first  saw  him.  Another  officer 
came  into  her  range  of  vision  with  an  unfolded 
sheet  in  his  hand,  which  he  proceeded  to  spread 
over  the  object  that  had  been  absorbing  the 
elderly  man's  attention  when  she  first  saw  him. 
Before  he  quite  covered  it,  she  had  time  to  rec- 
ognise the  feet  and  legs  of  Gerald  Trask  from  the 
pattern  of  the  trousers  which  he  had  worn  earlier 
in  the  evening. 

So  she  was  too  late  to  carry  out  her  first  plan. 
But  the  other,  the  better  one,  was  left. 

She  took  a  step  nearer  which  brought  her  out 
of  the  denser  shadows.  Fortunately  no  one  hap- 
pened to  look  in  her  direction.  She  was  going  to 
step  in  the  window  and  give  herself  up.  What 
was  the  elderly,  little  man  doing  now?  Again, 
he  was  stooping  down  over  something.  She  was 


256  ON  TRIAL 

puzzled  to  think  what  it  could  be.  She  stepped 
closer  still,  in  order  to  see. 

God  of  Heaven!  It  was  her  husband  lying 
dead  before  her!  In  place  of  one,  she  had  the 
blood  of  two  men  on  her  hands.  Crazed  with 
horror,  she  turned  and  fled  into  the  night. 

(Mrs.  Strickland  could  never  tell  just  what 
happened  between  the  time  she  fled  from  the  Trask 
house  and  when  she  found  herself  in  her  bed  in  the 
hospital.  The  hospital  records  are  almost  equally 
barren  of  any  information.  All  that  we  will  per- 
haps ever  know  is  that  she  was  brought  to  the 
institution  by  a  good-hearted  cab-driver  who  had 
found  her  unconscious  near  the  entrance  to  Cen- 
tral Park.) 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE 

FOR  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  was  late  in  arriv- 
ing at  the  court  room.  It  was  not  that  we  had 
not  started  promptly,  I  will  give  Mrs.  Strickland 
and  the  nurse  that  credit.  The  fault  was  really 
my  own.  I  had  quite  forgotten,  in  making  my 
calculations  that  I  must  allow  for  a  slight  delay 
in  conducting  the  two  women  to  the  waiting-room. 

While  I  was  still  apprehensive  that  Mrs.  Strick- 
land might  prove  to  be  unequal  to  the  ordeal  be- 
fore her,  my  fears  were  somewhat  allayed  at  see- 
ing that  she,  herself,  seemed  to  have  perfect  confi- 
dence in  her  ability  to  go  through  with  it.  The 
nurse,  too,  wore  an  air  of  determination  that  I 
found  positively  bracing.  Her  whole  manner  in- 
dicated that  she  felt  that  it  was  her  duty  to  see 
that  her  patient  should  accomplish  what  she  had 
set  out  to,  and  that  she  made  it  a  rule  to  do  her 
duty. 

It  was  just  twenty- two  minutes  after  ten 
257 


258  ON  TRIAL 

when  I  finally  entered  the  court-room.  I  expe- 
rienced the  novel — and  I  may  add  distinctly  un- 
pleasant— sensation  of  being  rebuked  by  the 
Court. 

"This  court  convenes  at  ten  o'clock,  Mr.  Ar- 
buckle,"  said  His  Honour  sharply. 

"I  must  ask  Your  Honour  to  excuse  me.  I 
have  been  working  all  night  on  this  case.  There 
has  been  an  unexpected  development  over  night. 
Last  evening,  Mrs.  Strickland,  the  wife  of  the 
defendant,  came  to  my  house.  It  seems  that  she 
has  been  dangerously  ill,  and  it  is  only  the  realisa- 
tion of  the  importance  of  her  testimony  that  has 
enabled  her  to  be  in  condition  to  take  the  witness 
stand.  She  has  told  me  a  story,  Your  Honour, 
which  puts  an  entirely  different  aspect  upon  this 
case." 

The  District  Attorney  was  on  his  feet  in  an  in- 
stant. Out  of  the  tail  of  my  eye,  I  saw  that  he 
had  lost  something  of  his  air  of  overweening  con- 
fidence. "I  object,  Your  Honour,  to  counsel  com- 
menting upon  the  testimony  of  a  witness  who  has 
not  yet  been  called." 

"Very  well,  Your  Honour.     I  shall  call  Mrs. 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  259 

Strickland  at  once.  Her  testimony  will  require 
no  comment.  Call  Mrs.  Strickland,  please." 

As  the  attendant  went  to  the  door  to  call  the 
witness,  I  bent  over  Strickland's  bowed  head. 

"It's  all  right,  Strickland.  She  is  coming  of 
her  own  free  will.  Nothing  could  hold  her  back 
now.  She  has  been  very,  very  ill.  It  was  only 
yesterday  that  she  learned  of  your  position.  You 
must  be  prepared  for  a  great  change  in  her  ap- 
pearance." 

She  came  in  slowly,  leaning  slightly  on  the  arm 
of  the  attendant.  As  she  bowed  slightly  to  the 
Court  on  taking  the  witness  stand,  her  eyes  fell 
for  the  first  time  on  the  figure  of  her  husband. 
Her  eyes  dilated.  A  wave  of  colour  swept  into 
her  face,  leaving  it  more  pale  than  before  by  con- 
trast, when  it  died  away.  For  the  first  time,  all 
my  fears  for  her  vanished.  There  was  that  in 
her  glance  that  told  me  that  her  indomitable  spirit 
would  see  her  through. 

"Raise  your  right  hand,"  said  the  Clerk. 

For  a  moment,  she  fumbled  with  the  glove 
which  she  had  forgotten  to  remove. 

"Do  you  solemnly  swear  that  the  testimony 


260  ON  TRIAL 

you  are  about  to  give  will  be  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  so  help  me 
God?' 

"I  do." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"May  Deane  Strickland." 

"Mrs.  Strickland,"  I  asked,  "are  you  the  wife 
of  Robert  Strickland,  the  defendant?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"When  were  you  married?" 

"July  15th,  1903." 

"Did  you  know  Gerald  Trask?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  did." 

"When  did  you  first  meet  Mr.  Trask?" 

"In  March,  1900." 

"That  was  before  you  knew  Mr.  Strickland?" 

"Yes,  sir;  more  than  two  years  before." 

"How  old  were  you  at  that  time?" 

"Just  seventeen." 

"Where  did  you  first  meet  Mr.  Trask?" 

"At  Lakewood." 

"Now,  Mrs.  Strickland,  describe  your  relations 
with  Mr.  Trask  at  that  time." 

"He  was  very  attentive  to  me,  and  took  me 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  261 

about  a  good  deal.  About  ten  days  after  I  met 
him,  I  returned  to  the  city,  and  he  came  back,  too. 
He  kept  sending  me  things  and  taking  me  out. 
Then,  one  day,  he  asked  me  to  marry  him." 

"When  was  that4?" 

"In  April,  1900." 

"Did  you  accept  him?" 

"Not  the  first  time.     I  asked  him  to  wait." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"He  said  he  would  wait  as  long  as  I  wanted 
him  to.  But  every  time  he  saw  me,  he  spoke  to 
me  about  it — telling  me  how  much  he  loved  me 
and  how  much  I  meant  to  him.  He  seemed  so 
earnest  and  sincere  that  I  believed  everything  he 
said.  At  last,  I  yielded  and  consented  to  marry 
him." 

"When  was  that?" 

"On  the  ipth  of  May." 

"Yes?" 

"He  said  he  wanted  to  be  married  next  day. 
But  he  also  said  that  on  account  of  his  family, 
he  couldn't  let  it  be  known  for  awhile,  so  we 
would  have  to  be  married  secretly.  Next  day  he 
called  for  me  in  his  automobile  and  said  that  we 


262  ON  TRIAL 

would  go  to  an  hotel  at  Great  Neck,  Long  Island, 
to  meet  a  clergyman  with  whom  he  had  made  ar- 
rangements. We  arrived  at  Great  Neck  at  about 
seven  o'clock  that  evening." 

"Yes?' 

Again  her  face  flushed.  She  waited  a  moment 
until  she  could  regain  the  mastery  over  herself. 
I  was  probably,  with  one  exception,  the  only  per- 
son in  that  crowded  room  who  knew  the  whole 
shameful  story  she  was  about  to  tell.  That  ex- 
ception was  Mrs.  Gerald  Trask.  I  looked  over 
at  where  she  was  sitting.  She  was  watching  Mrs. 
Strickland  intently,  but  I  thought  that  I  detected 
a  growing  surprise  in  her  face. 

"We  had  arranged  to  have  breakfast  in  our 
rooms  the  next  morning.  As  I  came  out  of  our 
bedroom,  the  waiter  knocked  at  the  door  of  the 
drawing-room.  He  had  come  to  set  the  table  for 
breakfast.  I  told  him  to  leave  it  for  the  present. 
I  had  secretly  determined  to  do  it  myself.  I 
would  have  liked  to  have  prepared  the  breakfast 
if  it  had  been  possible.  In  the  circumstances,  I 
had  to  content  myself  with  doing  everything  that 
I  could  to  make  the  table  look  attractive. 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  263 

"Mr.  Trask  had  gone  out  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore, saying  that  he  would  be  back  immediately. 
I  was  just  debating  whether  I  would  have  time  to 
run  out  into  the  pretty  garden  that  I  could  see 
from  my  window,  and  gather  a  flower  or  two  to 
give  my  table  a  finishing  touch,  and  wondering  to 
whom  I  should  apply  for  the  necessary  permission, 
when  Mr.  Russell,  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel, 
came  in,  a  large  bouquet  of  roses  in  his  hand. 

"He  was  a  nice,  elderly  man  about  the  age  of 
my  father.  I  had  taken  a  liking  to  him  on  sight. 
And,  if  a  little  later  I  thought  him  unreasonable, 
harsh,  and  cruel,  it  was  because  I  didn't  under- 
stand. 

"  'Good  morning,  Mrs.  Trask,'  he  said,  offering 
me  the  flowers,  for  which  I  thanked  him  warmly. 
Tve  just  come  in  to  see  that  the  table  is  laid  prop- 
erly. I  want  your  first  breakfast  to  be  a  func- 
tion.' 

"  'Well,  I  think,  myself,  that  it  looks  very  nice, 
indeed,'  I  laughed. 

"Fortunately,  it  seemed  to  meet  with  his  ap- 
proval. For,  having  looked  at  it  critically,  he 
nodded  his  head. 


264  ON  TRIAL 

"  fl  told  the  chef  to  make  the  effort  of  his  life.' 

"  'That  was  darling  of  you,  Mr.  Russell.' 

"  'And,'  he  went  on,  T  wish  you  both  lots  of 
happiness.  That  bridal  bouquet,  I  want  you  to 
understand,  came  from  our  own  garden.' 

"I  assured  him  that  they  were  beautiful,  and 
that  I  would  prize  them  all  the  more  because  they 
hadn't  come  from  a  florist's  in  the  ordinary  way. 

"With  a  last  hope  that  we  might  enjoy  our 
breakfast,  he  was  just  going  out  of  the  door  when 
Mr.  Trask  returned.  The  two  men  exchanged 
cordial  greetings.  I  gathered  that  Mr.  Trask  had 
been  down  often  before. 

"I  called  Mr.  Trask's  attention  to  the  flowers 
and  said  that  I  thought  that  Mr.  Russell  had  been 
very  nice  to  give  them  to  me.  He  said  that  of 
course  no  one  could  help  being  nice  to  me,  for 
which  pretty  speech  I  rewarded  him  by  giving  him 
a  rose  for  his  buttonhole. 

"Every  word  of  our  conversation  during  break- 
fast is  burned  into  my  brain.  They  told  me  aft- 
erwards, that  during  my  subsequent  illness,  I  kept 
going  over  it,  and  over  it,  as  if  I  were  repeating 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  265 

something  I  had  deliberately  committed  to  mem- 
ory. 

"  'Shall  we  sit  down?  The  breakfast  smells 
very  interesting.' 

"  'Before  you've  had  a  mouthful  to  eat,  you 
must  tell  me  where  you've  been  all  this  long 
while!' 

"  'I've  been  fixing  the  car.' 

"  'I  was  just  going  to  look  for  you.  You've 
been  gone  ages.' 

"  'Only  fifteen  minutes.' 

f '  'Only  fifteen  minutes !  Why,  that's  a  life- 
time. I  thought  you  were  never  coming  back.' 

"  'Did  you4?  And  what  would  you  have  done, 
if  I  hadn't?' 

"  'Heavens,  what  an  idea !  That  would  have 
been  a  nice  state  of  affairs,  wouldn't  it?  And  on 
our  first  day !' 

"  'Yes.     Parted  at  the  altar,  eh?' 

"  T  think  you  deserve  a  scolding  for  running 
away  for  so  long.' 

"  'Don't  scold  me.  I  do  hate  being  scolded  on 
an  empty  stomach.' 


266  ON  TRIAL 

"  'Will  you  promise  never  to  do  it  again?' 

"  'Yes,  I  promise.' 

"  'Oh,  that  isn't  enough.  You  must  say:  "I'll 
never,  never,  never  leave  you  again  as  long  as  I 
live."  Say  that.' 

"  'I'll  never,  never,  never  leave  you —  What 
is  the  rest  of  it?' 

"  ' — Again  as  long  as  I  live.' 

"  'Again  as  long  as  I  live.  Have  I  got  it 
right?  Is  that  all  of  it?' 

"  'Yes.  And  now  you  must  ask  me  to  forgive 
you.' 

"'Forgive  me!' 

"  'May  dear.' 

"  'May  dear.' 

"And  he  leaned  across  the  table  to  kiss  me. 

"  'Ooh !'  I  said.     'You  taste  of  gasoline.' 

"  'Yes;  I've  been  tanking  up  the  car.' 

"'Why?' 

"  'We're  going  away  this  afternoon.5 

"  'Going  away?     Where  to?' 

"  'Anywhere  you  like.  Oh,  there's  no  fun  here. 
This  place  is  dead.' 

"  'But  I  love  this  place,'  I  persisted.     'It  will 


White,  New  York. 

"And  he  leaned  across  the  table  to  kiss  me" 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  267 

always  be  sacred  to  me.     Our  wedding  place! 
It's  the  greatest  happiness  we'll  ever  know.' 

"I  was  sincere  in  what  I  said.  I  genuinely 
thought  that  I  was  in  love  with  Gerald  Trask. 
It  was  only  later,  when  I  came  to  know  what  real 
love  was — the  love  that  I  have  for  my  husband, 
Robert  Strickland — that  I  realised  that  in  my 
youth  and  inexperience  I  had  taken  the  counter- 
feit for  the  real,  the  shadow  for  the  substance.  I 
was  flattered  and  dazzled  by  his  protestations  of 
love  for  me.  I  believed  him  when  he  told  me  that 
his  life  would  be  empty  without  me.  There  was 
intoxication  in  the  thought  that  I  loomed  so  large 
in  the  life  of  a  man  who  had  seen  the  world  and 
society  and  had  had  the  opportunity  of  meeting 
so  many  pretty  and  clever  women.  I  know  now 
that  his  appeal  was  to  my  vanity  and  not  to  my 
heart.  But  you  must  remember  that  I  was  more 
ignorant  of  the  world  than  most  girls  of  my  age. 
And  I  was  only  seventeen,  little  more  than  a  child. 

"  'Of  course,  there's  a  lot  in  that,'  he  went  on 
in  reply  to  my  protest.  'Still,  it's  not  very  lively.' 

"  'Every  once  in  a  while,  Gerald,  years  from 
now,  we'll  slip  down  here  quite  quietly — just  you 


268  ON  TRIAL 

and  I  alone — and  live  this  day  over  again,  won't 
we? 

"  'Yes;  that  will  be  bully.' 

"  'Isn't  it  strange !  Yesterday,  Great  Neck  was 
only  a  queer  name  to  me.  And  now  it's  the  dear- 
est spot  on  earth.  I'm  so  happy,  Gerald,  dear. 
Must  we  keep  it  quiet  for  long?' 

"  Tor  quite  a  while  yet,  I'm  afraid.' 

"  'It  seems  so  wrong  for  families  to  interfere 
in  things  like  this,'  I  objected.  'If  people  love 
each  other,  I  don't  see  why  they  have  to  consult 
any  one  else  about  it.' 

"  'Of  course,  you  are  perfectly  right  about  that, 
but  you  can't  get  everybody  to  look  at  it  just  that 
way.' 

"  'I  wish  we  could  tell.  I'm  just  longing  to  go 
about  telling  everybody  how  happy  I  am.' 

"  'But  you  mustn't  say  a  word  to  any  one.  Re- 
member, you've  promised.' 

"  'No,  I  won't.  I'll  keep  my  promise.  But 
the  clergyman  may  tell  some  one,  Gerald.  Cler- 
gymen are  very  gossipy,  you  know.  At  least  all 
the  ones  I  have  ever  known  were !' 

"  Til  see  that  he  doesn't  tell,  I  promise  you.' 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  269 

"  What's  his  name?' 

"  The  clergyman? 

"  'Yes.' 

"  'Oh— Smith.     Walter  Smith.' 

"  Is  he  nice? 

"  'Yes;  fine  chap.' 

"  'You're  very  good  friends,  aren't  you?' 

"  'Oh,  yes.     We  were  classmates  at  college.' 

"  Tm  glad  of  that.' 

"  'Why?' 

"  'Because  it  will  be  much  nicer  than  having  a 
perfect  stranger.  Don't  you  think  so?' 

"  'Of  course.     That's  why  I  picked  him  out.' 

"  'Do  you  think  he'll  be  here  soon?' 

"  'Sometime  during  the  morning.' 

"  'It's  strange  he  didn't  receive  your  first  mes- 
sage last  night,  isn't  it?' 

"  'There's  nothing  so  strange  about  it  after  all. 
His  servant  forgot  to  deliver  it,  that's  all.' 

"  'And,  of  course,  it  was  too  late  for  him  to 
come  down  after  you  telephoned  from  here.' 

"  'Yes,  of  course.  It  was  almost  midnight.  I 
couldn't  well  have  asked  it  of  him.' 

"  'I  wish  he  had  come  last  night.' 


270  ON  TRIAL 

"  cYes;  it's  too  bad  he  didn't.' 

"  'I  feel  so  uncomfortable  about  it.' 

"  'I  don't  see  why.  A  few  hours  sooner 
or  later — what  possible  difference  does  it 
make? 

"  CI  suppose  it  doesn't  really  make  any  differ- 
ence. I  wish,  just  the  same,  that  you  had  gotten 
some  one  in  the  neighbourhood.' 

"  'I  told  you  I  tried  to,'  he  said  with  a  touch  of 
impatience.  'The  only  clergyman  who  could 
have  married  us  is  out  of  town  attending  a  con- 
vention. But  if  I  had  dreamed  that  you  were 
going  to  feel  so  cut  up  about  it — ' 

"  'You  aren't  angry  with  me,  are  you,  dear*?' 

"  'No,  certainly  not.  I  understand  just  how 
you  feel  about  it.  But  it's  only  a  matter  of  form, 
after  all,  you  know.' 

"  'Of  course  it  is.  And  I'm  a  silly  girl,  and 
you're  very  patient  with  me.  Do  you  know, 
Gerald,  I'm  almost  afraid  of  you  sometimes4?' 

"  'What  nonsense !     Why  V 

"  'You  know  so  many  things.' 

"  That's  no  reason  why  you  should  be  afraid 
of  me.' 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  271 

"  'I  know  it  isn't.  Gerald  dear,  you're  sure 
you  never  cared  for  any  other  girl4?' 

"  'My  dear  child,'  he  laughed.  'I've  told  you 
so  a  hundred  times!  Don't  you  believe  me4?' 

"  'Y-e-s,  but  it  seems  so  wonderful  that  you 
should  fall  in  love  with  me.  You've  met  so  many 
other  girls.' 

"  'So  I  have.  But  I've  never  met  any  one  like 
you.' 

"  'You  do  care  a  great  deal  for  me,  don't  you?' 

"  Tve  told  you.' 

"  'And  you'll  be  very  good  to  me*?' 

"  'As  good  as  I  know  how  to  be.' 

"  'And  you'll  always  love  me?' 

"  'As  long  as  I  live.     Haven't  I  said  so?' 

"  'I  do  wish  Mr.  Smith  would  come.' 

"  'I  can't  imagine  what's  keeping  him.' 

"  'Don't  you  think  that  you  had  better  tele- 
phone again*?' 

"  'I'd  rather  not.  Let's  be  patient  a  little 
longer.' 

"  'What  will  we  do  if  he  doesn't  come4?' 

"  'Well,  you  see  we  must  leave  here  this  after- 


272  ON  TRIAL 

"  'But  we  can't  leave  without  being  married !' 

"  'Why  not?' 

"  'Why  not!  Gerald,  you're  laughing  at  me! 
Surely,  surely  you  wouldn't  want  to.' 

"  'I  thought  we  had  agreed  about  that.' 

"  'I  know,  but—' 

"  'I  don't  see  what  you  are  worried  about.  It's 
only  a  matter  of  a  ceremony — a  formality.' 

"  'I  know;  but  a  girl  looks  at  these  things  dif- 
ferently.' 

"  'Well,  if  my  man  doesn't  come,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  be  married  here  anyhow.' 

"  'Couldn't  you  find  some  one?' 

"  'Impossible !  There's  no  one  available.  Be- 
sides, we  couldn't  get  a  ring  down  here.' 

"  'Haven't  you  brought  a  ring?' 

"  'No,  I  forgot  all  about  it.  It's  all  right, 
though.  I  told  Wallace  to  bring  one  down  with 
him.' 

"  'Wallace?  I  thought  you  said  his  name  was 
Walter.' 

"  'So  it  is.  Wallace  is  a  nick-name  I  gave  him 
long  ago,  because  he's  so  proud  of  his  Scottish  an- 
cestry.' 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  273 

"  'But  I've  got  a  gold  ring  that  will  do,'  I  said. 
And  I  went  into  the  bedroom  to  get  it  out  of  the 
little  box  of  trinkets  that  I  had,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  placed  in  my  satchel  at  the  last  moment." 

For  the  first  time  her  voice,  which,  although  it 
had  been  very  low  was  clear  and  distinct,  broke. 
Had  she  reached  the  limit  of  her  strength?  Was 
she  going  to  fail  me  now?  The  silence  in  the 
court  room  was  absolute.  Even  the  women  had 
forgotten  to  fan  themselves.  Strickland  caught 
me  by  the  arm. 

"For  God's  sake,  do  not  go  on  with  it!"  he  whis- 
pered hoarsely.  "Do  you  want  her  to  kill  her- 
self? Can't  you  see  that  she  is  at  the  end  of  her 
strength?" 

"There's  only  a  little  more,"  I  said  soothingly. 
"She  has  passed  the  worst.  The  strain  is  nearly 
over."  But  I  was  far  from  feeling  the  confidence 
that  I  pretended  to.  Mrs.  Strickland  was  leaning 
back  in  her  chair.  Her  eyelids  drooped  over  her 
feverish  eyes.  I  feared  that  she  was  about  to 
faint. 

Then  I  suddenly  remembered  the  nurse,  waiting 
in  the  outer  room.  Stepping  over  to  His  Hon- 


274  ON  TRIAL 

our's  desk  I  asked  for  a  moment's  delay,  while  I 
went  to  see  if  I  could  get  something  to  revive  the 
half -fainting  woman.  Having  obtained  the  nec- 
essary permission,  I  went  in  search  of  the  nurse. 
I  never  doubted  that  a  person  as  capable  as  she 
gave  me  the  impression  of  being  would  have  had 
the  forethought  to  provide  herself  with  some  rem- 
edy against  just  such  a  situation. 

As  I  passed  along  the  room,  I  noted  the  tense 
expression  on  the  faces  of  the  crowd  that  filled  it. 
Chancing  to  glance  at  Mrs.  Trask,  I  was  aston- 
ished to  see  that  even  she  had  been  moved  out  of 
her  habitual  calm  by  the  witness's  story.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  it,  she  had  been  crying.  Her 
eyes  were  still  red.  At  that  moment,  I  felt  more 
kindly  towards  her  than  I  would  have  thought 
possible  earlier  in  the  day.  I  realised  that  she, 
too,  must  have  suffered  as  the  wife  of  Gerald 
Trask.  Her  quick  jealousy  which  seemed  ready 
to  flame  into  life  at  the  bare  mention  of  a  woman's 
name,  was  not  without  reason  for  its  existence. 

I  was  not  disappointed  in  my  estimate  of  Miss 
Foley's  capabilities.  Have  I  said  that  the  nurse's 
name  was  Foley*?  Hardly  waiting  for  me  to  ex- 


A  WIFE'S  SACRIFICE  275 

plain  the  nature  of  my  errand,  she  quickly  poured 
a  few  drops  of  a  dark  and  pungent  liquid  into  a 
glass,  added  some  water  from  the  water-cooler  that 
stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  handed  it  to 
me  without  as  much  as  a  word. 

Hastening  back  into  the  court  room,  I  went  over 
to  Mrs.  Strickland's  side.  I  had  only  to  touch 
her  lightly  on  the  arm  to  arouse  her.  Opening 
her  eyes,  she  saw  the  glass  in  my  hand.  Taking 
it  from  me,  she  drained  it  at  a  draught.  The  ef- 
fect was  immediate.  It  must  have  been  an  un- 
usually powerful  tonic,  and  no  doubt  the  few 
minutes  respite  from  the  terrific  strain  to  which 
she  was  being  subjected  contributed  to  her  recov- 
ery. 

"You  are  very  good,"  she  whispered.  "I  am 
all  right  now.  I  am  sorry  to  have  caused  you  so 
much  trouble.  But  for  the  moment,  I  couldn't 
go  on." 

"You  are  sure  that  you  are  strong  enough  to 
go  on?  I  am  sure  that  His  Honour  will  grant 
us  a  few  moments'  recess  to  give  you  time  to  re- 
cover yourself  completely." 

"No,  no;  let  me  finish  while  I  am  here.     I 


276  ON  TRIAL 

could  never  find  the  courage  to  go  through  with  it 
again." 

Having  made  a  sign  to  the  Court  that  my  wit- 
ness was  ready,  I  left  her  side  and  went  back  to 
my  place. 

"You  may  proceed,  Mr.  Arbuckle." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SHIPWRECK 

"WHAT  occurred  while  you  were  in  the  next  room, 
Mrs.  Strickland?" 

"While  I  was  looking  for  the  ring,"  resumed 
the  witness  in  a  weak  voice,  which,  however,  gath- 
ered strength  as  she  went  on,  "I  heard  some  one 
knocking  at  the  door  of  the  sitting-room,  and  I 
heard  Mr.  Trask  call:  'Come  in.'  For  the  mo- 
ment I  hoped  that  it  might  be  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Smith,  who  had  been  so  unaccountably  delayed. 

"Hurriedly  snatching  up  my  ring,  I  ran  back 
into  the  sitting-room.  But  it  was  only  the  pro- 
prietor, Mr.  Russell.  In  his  hand  he  held  an 
opened  telegram.  I  had  time  to  notice  that  all 
the  friendly,  genial  expression  that  his  kindly  old 
face  had  worn  earlier  in  the  day,  had  vanished. 
His  whole  manner  was  stern  and  forbidding. 

"  'Hello,  Russell/  said  Mr.  Trask,  'what  have 

you  got  there4?     Despatches  from  the  front *?' 

277 


278  ON  TRIAL 

"  'Gerald,  look;  will  this  do?'  I  asked,  holding 
out  my  ring. 

"But  Mr.  Russell  went  on  without  even  ac- 
knowledging my  presence.  'I'd  like  an  explana- 
tion of  this!'  He  shook  the  telegram  angrily  in 
front  of  Mr.  Trask's  face. 

"  'I  can't  very  well  explain  it  without  knowing 
what  it's  all  about,'  replied  Mr.  Trask.  But  I 
could  see  that  he  was  very  uneasy  about  some- 
thing. 

"  'Detain  May  Deane  until  I  arrive.  She  is 
with  Gerald  Trask.  Henry  Deane,'  read  Mr. 
Russell. 

"  'From  my  father !'  I  cried. 

1  'Mr.  Trask  sprang  to  his  feet.  I  could  see  that 
he  was  terribly  angry.  He  didn't  even  look  at 
Mr.  Russell,  much  less  attempt  to  answer  him. 
'What  is  this?'  he  demanded  of  me. 

"  'I  don't  know,  Gerald.  I  don't  understand 
it,'  I  said.  I  was  beginning  to  be  frightened  with- 
out exactly  knowing  why. 

"  'Didn't  you  give  me  your  solemn  promise — ' 

"  'I  have  told  no  one,'  I  protested. 

"  'Well,  Mr.  Trask?'  demanded  Mr.  Russell. 


SHIPWRECK  279 

"  Well,  what? 

"  'Is  this  young  lady  your  wife,  or  isn't  she?' 

"  'What  difference  does  that  make  to  you4?' 

"  'It  makes  a  great  deal  of  difference  to  me. 
You've  registered  as  man  and  wife.' 

"  'I  don't  see  what  you're  worrying  about, 
then,'  said  Mr.  Trask,  attempting  to  turn  it  off 
with  a  laugh. 

"I  couldn't  understand  why  he  acted  so.  Why 
didn't  he  explain  the  whole  thing  at  once.  Even 
then,  I  felt  that  I  should  die  of  shame! 

"  'But  explain  to  Mr.  Russell,  Gerald!  We're 
going  to  be  married  this  morning,  Mr.  Russell,'  I 
said,  turning  to  him.  'We  were  going  to  be  mar- 
ried last  night,  only  there  was  no  clergyman.' 

"  'Keep  quiet,  May !' 

"For  the  first  time  Mr.  Russell  seemed  to  be 
aware  of  my  presence.  He  turned  to  me,  but  his 
face  wore  a  look  that  was  almost  sneering. 
'Quite  so!'  he  said  with  a  hard,  little  laugh. 
'There  probably  aren't  more  than  about  a  dozen 
clergymen  within  a  mile  of  this  hotel !' 

"I  stared  at  him  in  blank  amazement.  And 
then  I  felt  myself  grow  cold  all  over.  My  heart 


280  ON  TRIAL 

was  beating  as  though  it  were  going  to  burst. 
'What  do  you  mean?  Gerald!'  I  screamed. 

"  'Keep  quiet,  I  tell  you,'  he  snarled.  'Let  me 
manage  this.  What  do  you  want,  Russell'?' 

"  'I  want  you  to  get  out  of  this  house  at  once.' 

"  'We  are  planning  to  leave  this  afternoon.' 

"  'This  afternoon  won't  do.  You  must  go  im- 
mediately. It's  eleven  o'clock  now.  You  must 
be  out  by  noon.' 

"  Til  go  when  I  get  good  and  damned  ready,' 
blustered  Mr.  Trask. 

"  'No,  you  won't.  You'll  go  now.  I  won't 
have  any' — he  hesitated  for  a  minute — 'any  ques- 
tionable characters  in  my  house.' 

"At  these  dreadful  words,  I  thought  that  I  was 
going  to  faint.  I  fell  into  a  chair  beside  the  table. 
And  it  was  only  a  few  short  minutes  since  I  had 
been  happily  sitting  there,  in  that  very  chair,  eat- 
ing my  first  breakfast  with  the  man  who,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  at  least,  was  my  husband ! 

"  'Gerald!  Gerald!  Don't  let  him  say  such 
dreadful  things!' 

"  'Will  you  be  quiet?' 

"  Tve  been  years  building  up  a  reputation  for 


SHIPWRECK  281 

this  place,'  went  on  Mr.  Russell,  'and  I  don't  in- 
tend risking  it  for  you,  or  for  any  one  else.' 

"  'You're  damned  independent,  old  man.  This 
isn't  the  only  roadhouse  on  Long  Island,  you 
know,'  said  Mr.  Trask  coarsely. 

"  'I  guess  I  can  stand  the  loss  of  your  trade,  and 
of  anybody  like  you.  I  never  did  care  for  your 
sort,  anyhow.' 

"  'You've  said  enough,  Russell.  You'd  better 
clear  out  of  here.' 

"  'All  right.  But  I  want  you  out  of  here  by 
noon,  understand  that.  Young  lady,'  he  said, 
turning  to  me — and  for  the  first  time  his  face 
softened,  and  I  could  see  a  look  of  pity  in  his  old 
eyes — CI  hope  for  your  sake  that  your  father  gets 
here  before  then.' 

"For  some  reason,  these  words  seemed  to  put 
Mr.  Trask  in  a  rage.  'If  you  don't  get  out  of  this 
room,  I'll  kick  you  out !'  He  shook  his  clenched 
fist  in  Mr.  Russell's  face. 

"  'I'm  going.  I've  said  all  I've  got  to  say  for 
now.  But,  remember !  If  you're  not  out  of  here 
by  noon,  I'll  send  for  the  police.'  With  that,  he 
left  us. 


282  ON  TRIAL 

"At  that  I  broke  down  and  cried  from  sheer 
nervousness  and  fright.  'Gerald,  why  did  he  talk 
like  that4?  Why  didn't  you  explain*?' 

"But  he  paid  no  attention  to  me.  He  was 
striding  up  and  down  the  little  room.  I  could 
see  that  he  was  terribly  upset.  But  even  then,  I 
knew  it  was  not  of  me  that  he  was  thinking. 

"  'This  is  a  nice  mess  we're  in!' 

"  'But,  Gerald,  if  you  had  only  explained  about 
Mr.  Smith!' 

"He  made  an  angry  gesture.  'Didn't  I  tell 
you  not  to  let  your  father  know  where  we 
were? 

'"But  I  didn't!' 

"'What!' 

"  'I  didn't,  I  tell  you.  Of  course  I  would  have, 
if  you  hadn't  told  me  not  to.' 

"He  came  over  and  shook  me  violently  by  the 
shoulders.  'Don't  lie  to  me !' 

"  'Gerald!'     I  broke  down  utterly  at  that. 

"  'I  told  you  fifty  times,  if  I  told  you  once,  that 
I  didn't  want  anybody  to  know.' 

"  'But  I  didn't,  I  didn't,'  I  sobbed. 

"For  a  moment  he  seemed  almost  ashamed  of 


SHIPWRECK  283 

himself  for  having  laid  his  hands  upon  me.  'But 
how  else  could  he  have  found  out?'  he  asked. 

"  'I  don't  know.     But  not  from  me/ 

"He  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room  once 
more.  'Just  what  I  was  trying  my  best  to  avoid 
has  happened.' 

"  'But  it's  not  my  fault.' 

"  'He'll  come  down  here  and  make  a  scene.' 

"  'Not  when  he  finds  that  it's  really  all  right/ 
I  said  eagerly.  'But  I  wonder  how  he  knew  that 
we  weren't  married  yet?' 

"Mr.  Trask  suddenly  stood  still.  Pulling  out 
his  watch,  he  frowned  over  it  for  a  second.  Then 
he  seemed  to  have  made  up  his  mind  to  some- 
thing. 

"  'Don't  waste  time  now.     Get  ready.' 

"  'Ready  for  what?' 

"'To  go;  what  did  you  suppose  I  meant! 
We've  got  to  clear  out  of  here  before  the  old  man 
gets  here.' 

"I  stared  at  him  in  amazement.  Go  before 
my  father  came !  What  could  he  be  thinking  of? 
I  jumped  out  of  my  chair  and  ran  over  and  seized 
him  by  the  arm. 


284  ON  TRIAL 

"  'Oh,  no,  Gerald,  we  must  wait  now.  Don't 
you  see — ' 

"  'I'm  managing  this.     Get  ready,  I  tell  you.' 

"There  came  a  pounding  at  the  door.  Not  a 
knocking,  but  a  pounding. 

"  'Oh,  that  must  be  Mr.  Smith,'  I  said  faintly. 
But  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  it  was  not. 

"'Damn  it!  That's  your  father,  I'll  bet. 
Now  we're  both  in  for  the  devil  of  a  row.' 

"There  came  a  rattling  at  the  knob  of  the  door. 
It  evidently  was  locked.  Mr.  Trask  must  have 
locked  it  after  Mr.  Russell  without  my  having 
seen  him. 

"  'Shall  I  open  the  door?  I  whispered. 

"  'Wait  a  minute,'  he  whispered  back.  Tf  it's 
your  father,  I  don't  want  to  see  him.' 

"  'But,  Gerald — '  The  pounding  and  rattling 
began  again. 

"  'Listen  to  me.'  He  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
made  up  his  mind  to  something.  'I'm  going  into 
the  other  room.  I'll  wait  in  there  while  you  talk 
to  the  old  man.  If  he  asks  for  me,  tell  him  I'm 
out.  Get  rid  of  him  as  quickly  as  you  can.  Do 
you  understand?' 


SHIPWRECK  285 

"  'Yes;  but  if  it's  Mr.  Smith,  after  all?' 

"  'Do  as  I  tell  you,  do  you  hear  me*?' 

"He  ran  into  the  bedroom  and  closed  the  door 
after  him.  I  heard  him  swear  as  he  tried  to  lock 
it.  But  the  key  wouldn't  turn.  I  waited  a 
minute,  and  then  I  went  over  to  the  door  of 
the  sitting-room  and  unlocking  it,  threw  it 
open. 

"'Father!'  I  cried. 

"His  face  was  whiter  than  I  had  ever  seen  it. 
He  seemed  to  have  grown  older  in  a  day.  There 
were  deep  lines  that  I  had  never  noticed  in  his 
dear  face !" 

For  a  moment,  the  witness's  iron  control 
threatened  to  give  way.  But  with  a  supreme  ef- 
fort, she  managed  to  go  on.  I  thanked  God  that 
it  was  nearly  over. 

"He  gave  me  no  word  of  greeting.  'Where's 
Trask?'  was  all  he  said. 

"  'Why  did  you  come  here,  Father?'  I  asked  in 
wonder. 

"  'Where's  Trask?'  he  repeated. 

"  'He— he's  out.' 

"  'Where  did  he  go?' 


286  ON  TRIAL 

"  Why — I  don't  know — he  didn't  say.  But, 
Father—' 

"  'When  is  he  coming  back?' 

"His  manner  frightened  me  almost  as  much  as 
Mr.  Trask's  had  done. 

"  'Why — not  for  quite  a  while,'  I  said  lamely. 
And  then  I  asked  again:  'How  did  you  know 
we  were  down  here,  Father?' 

"  'Never  mind  now.     Get  your  things,  May.' 

"  'My  things?     Why?' 

"  'We're  going  home.' 

"  'No,  no !  I  can't  do  that.'  And  then  I 
knew  that  he  had  found  out  that  we  had  not  been 
married  yet.  I  did  not  ask  myself  how,  I  only 
felt  that  I  must  explain  everything  without  a 
minute's  delay.  Now  I  understood  why  he 
looked  so  stern  and  troubled. 

"  'But,  Father,  Gerald  and  I  are  going  to  be 
married  this  morning.' 

"  'Get  your  things,  May.' 

"He  had  never  spoken  so  coldly  to  me  in  his 
life.  I  was  the  youngest,  and  no  doubt  for  that 
reason,  he  had  always  been  more  indulgent  with 
me  than  with  my  sisters. 


SHIPWRECK  287 

"  'But,  Father,  you  don't  seem  to  understand. 
Gerald  and  I  are  going  to  be  married.  We're 
waiting  for  the  clergyman.  We've  been  waiting 
ever  since  last  night.' 

"Two  big  tears  brimmed  over  from  my 
father's  eyes.  Twice  he  tried  to  speak  and 
failed. 

"  'He  can't  marry  you,'  he  finally  managed. 
His  voice  was  husky. 

"  'He  can't  marry  me !  He  can't — What  do 
you  mean!' 

"  'He  is  already  married.' 

"  'Married,'  I  said  dully.  I  understood  the 
word.  I  understood  what  the  word  married 
meant.  But,  somehow,  I  didn't  understand  it 
connected  with  Gerald.  I  stood  what  seemed  to 
be  a  long  time  with  my  hand  on  my  father's 
shoulder  looking  up  into  his  face.  The  tears  were 
coming  quite  fast  now.  I  started  to  count  them. 
There  were  two,  and  then  two  more,  and  then  two 
more,  and  then — 

"What  was  that  he  was  saying?  He  was  ap- 
parently speaking  to  me,  so  I  stopped  counting 
the  tears  to  listen. 


288  ON  TRIAL 

"  cHis  wife  telephoned  to  me  this  morning. 
She's  been  having  him  watched.' 

"There  were  two  more,  and  two  more,  and 
two — 

"And  then  the  meaning  of  those  dreadful  words 
crashed  into  my  brain ! 

"'I  don't  believe  it!  I  don't  believe  it!'  I 
screamed. 

"  'Come,  May.' 

"I  stopped  sobbing.  For  Gerald's  sake,  I  must 
clear  up  this  fearful  misunderstanding. 

"  'But,  Father,  don't  you  understand*?'  I  tried 
to  keep  control  of  my  voice,  but  I  had  to  stop 
every  now  and  then,  because  my  sobs  threatened 
to  choke  me.  'We  are  to  be  married — to  be  mar- 
ried this  morning.  There's — there's  a  clergyman 
coming  down.  He  was  to  have  come  last — last 
night.  Say  that  you  understand!' 

"My  father  said  nothing.  He  didn't  even  look 
at  me.  He  seemed  to  be  looking  at  some  one 
over  my  shoulder.  Some  one  who  was  standing 
behind  me.  Of  course,  I  knew  that  there  was 
no  one  there.  But  my  father  seemed  to  think 
that  there  was.  He  must  have  grieved  terribly 


SHIPWRECK  289 

over  what  some  one  had  told  him  about  us.  He 
didn't  look  as  if  he  had  had  any  sleep  for  ever  so 
long.  That  was  it.  I  had  heard  somewhere  that 
people  who  had  been  without  sleep  for  a  long 
time  were  sometimes  almost  delirious.  My  father 
fancied  that  we  were  not  alone. 

"  'Father !  What  makes  you  act  so  strangely?' 

"Then  I  couldn't  stand  his  looking  over  my 
shoulder  any  longer.  I  turned  round.  There 
was  a  woman  standing  there  behind  me.  A 
woman  whom  I  had  never  seen  before  in  my  life. 
She  wasn't  looking  at  me.  She  was  looking  at 
my  father. 

"  'Who  are  you?     What  do  you  want?' 

"But  she  didn't  answer  me. 

"I  turned  back  to  father.     'Who  is  she?' 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Gerald  Trask.' 

"Then  in  a  sort  of  dream  I  heard  the  woman 
say :  'You  had  better  go  home  with  your  father.' 

"I  rushed  over  to  the  door  of  the  bedroom. 

"  'Gerald !  Gerald !'  I  cried,  pounding  on  the 
door.  There  was  no  answer.  I  flung  the  door 
wide.  The  room  was  empty.  I  ran  to  the  win- 
dow, which  was  a  low  one,  giving  onto  the  garden. 


2QO  ON  TRIAL 

The  road  by  which  we  had  come  made  a  sharp 
turn  just  in  front  of  the  window.  While  I  stood 
staring  out,  I  heard  the  'honk'  of  an  auto-horn. 
A  car,  going  at  a  terrific  speed,  shot  past  and  just 
barely  made  the  corner.  The  driver  was  muffled 
up  in  a  long  dust  coat,  the  collar  turned  up  about 
his  ears.  But  I  knew  that  car,  and  I  knew  the 
driver.  It  was  Gerald  Trask ! 

"I  don't  exactly  know  what  happened  next.  I 
believe  that  I  fainted.  And  afterwards  for  many, 
many  weeks  I  was  terribly  ill.  For  a  long  time 
they  thought  that,  even  if  my  life  were  spared,  I 
would  never  again  have  my  reason. 

"I  was  taken  to  a  place  in  the  country  where  I 
could  have  perfect  quiet,  and  where  there  would 
be  nothing  to  bring  to  my  mind  my  experience. 
My  sister  took  care  of  me,  and  I  was  among  peo- 
ple whom  my  father  had  known  as  a  young  man, 
and  who  were  devoted  to  him,  and  because  of  him, 
to  me.  Indeed  I  had  occasion  to  test  their  devo- 
tion once  since,  when  I  was  very  ill  before  my 
child  was  born. 

"For  weeks,  the  sound  of  that  automobile  horn 


SHIPWRECK  291 

went  through  my  head.  My  sister  has  told  me 
that  for  days  my  ravings  took  the  form  of  repeat- 
ing the  conversations  I  had  had  with  Mr.  Trask, 
with  Mr.  Russell,  and  with  my  father  on  that 
awful  day.  Before  I  had  fully  recovered,  my 
father  died. 

"Then  I  met  Robert,  my  husband.  When  I 
saw  that  he  loved  me,  I  tried  to  tell  him  about — 
about  that  terrible  experience.  But  I  was  afraid 
of  destroying  his  happiness.  He  would  not  have 
understood.  Men  don't  understand.  And  I 
loved  him  so ! 

"He  seemed  to  need  me  and  to  need  his  belief 
in  me.  I  came  to  realise  that  I  must  never  tell 
him.  He  was  all  that  life  meant  to  me.  I 
wanted  to  devote  my  every  thought  to  shielding 
him  from  the  slightest  unhappiness.  Even  though 
he  was  a  strong  man,  he  seemed  to  need  my  pro- 
tection. 

"Two  years  later,  we  were  married.  I  had  al- 
ready begun  to  think  of  that  awful  experience 
only  as  a  terrible  dream.  Then  my  baby,  Doris, 
came.  And  then  I  had  two  to  watch  over.  The 


292  ON  TRIAL 

happiness  of  those  two  was  my  one  aim  in  life. 
For  nine  years,  we  three  were  perfectly  happy  to- 
gether. 

"Then  one  day — about  a  year  ago — my  hus- 
band mentioned  his  name.  He  had  met  that  man 
somewhere.  I  hoped  and  prayed  that  their  ac- 
quaintance was  to  be  only  a  passing  one.  But  my 
prayer  was  not  answered.  They  became  more  and 
more  friendly.  Robert  spoke  more  than  once  of 
having  us  meet,  but  for  a  whole  year  I  managed 
to  contrive  to  avoid  that  meeting. 

"Meanwhile,  Robert's  business  troubles  had 
begun.  He — that  man — lent  him  money  and 
helped  him  in  other  ways.  In  their  growing 
friendship,  I  saw  the  wreck  of  all  our  happiness. 

"Then  a  business  opportunity  arose,  which 
would  take  us  away  from  New  York.  I  urged 
my  husband  to  accept  this,  and  he  finally  decided 
to  do  so.  It  seemed  as  if,  after  all,  my  prayer  was 
being  answered  in  a  different  way.  Some  Power 
was  guarding  the  happiness  of  my  husband  and 
my  baby. 

"It  was  on  a  Monday  that  Robert  left  to  go  for 
a  few  days  to  Cleveland,  Ohio.  He  had  already 


SHIPWRECK  293 

made  several  visits  there  in  connection  with  his 
new  business.  But  it  was  chiefly  on  our  account 
that  he  was  returning  this  time.  A  house  that  he 
had  seen  and  liked,  and  which  could  be  had  at  a 
figure  which  he  felt  that  he  could  afford,  had  been 
tentatively  offered  to  him.  Now,  it  seemed,  that 
the  owner  had  suddenly  decided  that  he  wished  to 
close  the  deal  without  loss  of  time.  It  was  that, 
that  took  him  back  on  a  hurried  trip. 

"I  knew  that  he  had  given  him  his  note  for  ten 
thousand  dollars,  and  that  the  note  would  fall  due 
before  his  return.  I  reminded  him  of  this.  But 
he  said  that  it  could  easily  be  arranged.  He 
would  write  a  note  to — to  Mr.  Trask,  explaining 
that  he  would  return  by  the  24th — the  note  was 
due  on  the  22nd — and  that  he  was  too  good  a 
fellow  to  make  any  trouble  about  it.  Then,  too, 
he  was  expecting  an  advance  from  his  new  busi- 
ness associates  in  Cleveland  which  would  make 
the  paying  of  it  all  the  easier. 

"Tuesday  night,  the  next  night  after  my  hus- 
band had  gone,  he  came.  He  had  received  my 
husband's  note,  and  came  to  leave  word  that  it 
was  all  right,  he  said.  He  knew,  of  course,  that 


294  ON  TRIAL 

my  husband  was  married,  but  he  had  no  idea  that 
I  was  his  wife. 

"He  recognised  me  the  moment  I  came  into  the 
room.  My  maid  had  merely  said  that  it  was  some 
one  with  a  message  for  Mr.  Strickland,  and  I  had 
thought  that  it  might  be  some  one  to  arrange  about 
the  moving  of  our  household  goods,  as  my  husband 
was  hesitating  between  two  bids  that  he  had  re- 
ceived. He  had  written  leaving  the  matter  open 
until  his  return,  but  I  thought  that  perhaps  one 
of  the  firms  had  wished  to  leave  some  word  for 
him. 

"He  threatened  to  tell  Robert  everything.  He 
taunted  me  with  the  fact  of  my  long  silence.  He 
said  that  my  husband  would  believe  anything  he 
chose  to  tell  him  on  account  of  that. 

"He  demanded  that  I  come  down  to  his  house 
at  Long  Branch  the  next  day.  I  begged  for 
mercy.  I  went  down  on  my  knees  to  him.  I 
begged,  and  begged,  and  begged!  He  wouldn't 
even  listen  to  me. 

"Then  I  thought  of  my  sister,  who  had  been 
with  me  through  all  my  trouble.  She  would  back 
me  up  in  the  confession  I  now  saw  that  I  should 


SHIPWRECK  295 

have  to  make  to  my  husband  at  last.  But  even 
while  I  defied  him,  telling  him  that  I  could  pro- 
duce a  witness  who  knew  of  the  whole  dreadful 
story  at  the  time,  I  knew  that  I  was  completely  at 
his  mercy.  And  he  knew  it,  as  well  as  I  did. 

"He  said  he  would  ruin  Robert,  make  a  pauper 
of  him — of  my  husband.  I  knew  that  the  ten 
thousand  dollars  was  due.  Supposing  that  any- 
thing happened  that  Robert  could  not  pay ! 

"I  was  beside  myself  with  fear.  I  didn't  care 
for  myself.  It  wasn't  that.  I  only  thought  of 
my  husband  and  my  baby.  Their  happiness  was 
in  my  hands.  I  was  ready  to  pay  any  price  to 
shield  them.  If  by  dying,  I  could  have  saved 
them,  how  willingly,  how  gladly  I  would  have 
died !  It  would  have  been  far  easier  than — than 
what  he  demanded.  No,  there  was  only  one  way, 
and  I  had  to  save  them! 

"But  Robert,  my  husband,  found  out,  and  all 
my  years  of  planning,  all  the  hopes  I  had  in  this 
world,  were  shattered. 

"Yesterday,  as  I  lay  half  conscious  in  the  hos- 
pital, I  happened  to  hear  two  of  the  nurses  dis- 
cussing the  testimony  given  in  a  murder  trial  by 


296  ON  TRIAL 

a  little  girl.  After  listening  for  a  time,  I  discov- 
ered that  it  was  my  little  girl  they  were  speaking 
of.  And  that  it  was  my  husband  who  was  on 
trial  for  murder,  and  accused  of  burglary  as  well. 

"They  didn't  want  to  let  me  come  here  to-day. 
But  I  showed  them  that  I  must.  I  made  them 
see  that  my  husband  might  be  put  to  death  unless 
the  truth  were  told. 

"I've  told  you  the  truth.  Can't  you*  under- 
stand"? My  husband  didn't  go  to  that  man's 
house  to  rob  it.  He  didn't  go  there  for  that 
wretched  money.  Robert's  not  a  thief!  J  am 
the  one  who  is  to  blame.  The  fault  is  all  mine. 
Z  am  the  guilty  one.  I've  ruined  the  lives  of  my 
husband  and  baby.  God  forgive  me !  God  for- 
give me!" 

To  my  dying  day,  I  shall  hear  the  hopeless  an- 
guish of  that  cry!  If  there  was  a  dry  eye  in  the 
court  room,  I  don't  know  whose  it  was.  It  cer- 
tainly wasn't  mine. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE    JURY    DEBATES 

THE  jury  had  been  out  over  four  hours.  As  is 
always  the  case,  all  sorts  of  rumours  were  flying 
about  the  court.  In  the  corridors  and  lobbies  of 
the  big  building  little  knots  of  men,  and  a  few 
women,  stood  discussing  the  chances  of  the  jury 
staying  out  all  night. 

The  more  fashionable  part  of  the  crowd  who 
had  distinguished  our  case  with  their  interest  had 
of  course  dispersed.  A  few  might  have  been 
found  in  some  of  the  higher  class  restaurants  in 
the  neighbourhood.  But  the  majority  had  gone 
about  their  various  occupations.  Popular  inter- 
est had,  of  course,  centred  itself  on  Mrs.  Strick- 
land. For  the  moment,  the  poor  lady  was  prob- 
ably the  most  widely  talked  of  woman  in  New 
York.  After  her  testimony,  even  the  verdict  of 
the  jury  was  a  matter  of  minor  interest — except, 
naturally,  to  those  who  might  be  said  to  have  a 
stake  in  the  result. 

297 


298  ON  TRIAL 

McLean,  whom  I  encountered  just  outside  of 
the  building,  informed  me  that  the  general  opin- 
ion inclined  in  favour  of  a  "Hung"  jury.  The 
theory  upon  which  this  prognostication  was  based 
seemed  to  be  that  while  people  were  inclined  to 
accept  the  motive  supplied  by  Mrs.  Strickland's 
remarkable  story  as  the  one  which  had  actuated 
the  accused  man  in  the  shooting  of  Trask,  the  fact 
remained  that  the  disappearance  of  the  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  had  not  been  explained  in  any  satis- 
factory way. 

"I  should  be  inclined  to  go  even  further  than 
that,"  I  said  sarcastically.  "I  should  say  that 
it  had  not  been  explained  at  all!  Pm  sure  I 
haven't  made  any  attempt  to  explain  it." 

"So  they  all  say,"  remarked  McLean  dryly,  to 
which  observation  I  had  no  reply.  All  the  same, 
I  considered  it  distinctly  unfair — coming  from 
McLean. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  regretted  that  I  had  not 
thought  to  taunt  him  with  the  fact  that  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  to  bear  out  his  cherished 
theory  that  it  was  Mrs.  Trask,  no  less,  who  could 
account  for  the  missing  cash ! 


THE  JURY  DEBATES  299 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Strickland  had  left  the  stand, 
she  had  gone,  accompanied  by  Miss  Foley  to  my 
office,  where  Mrs.  Stanwood  and  Doris  were  al- 
ready waiting. 

I  had  purposely  absented  myself  until  the  sis- 
ters, the  one  barrier  which  had  existed  between 
them,  now  happily  swept  away,  would  have  had 
time  to  indulge  themselves  to  the  full  in  what  I 
believe  is  known  to  the  sex  as  "a  good  cry,"  before 
intruding  upon  their  lachrymose  orgy. 

I  found  that  I  had  timed  my  arrival  with  com- 
mendable circumspection.  There  were  abundant 
traces  that  tears  had  been  shed — even  Miss  Foley's 
eyes  wore  a  suspicious  redness — but  to  all  appear- 
ances, the  worst  was  over. 

Doris,  a  picture  of  happy  contentment,  was 
seated  in  her  mother's  lap,  her  head  resting  on 
her  shoulder.  She  gave  me  her  engaging  little 
smile,  and  held  out  her  small  hand,  in  token  that 
she  had  forgiven  me  the  unhappy  hours  I  had 
been  compelled  to  cause  her. 

Having  assured  them  that,  in  a  jury  case,  per- 
haps beyond  all  others,  no  news  was  good  news, 
I  left  them  to  enjoy  their  happy  reunion,  and  has- 


300  ON  TRIAL 

tened  back  to  the  court.  Here  I  found  that  the 
tide  of  opinion  in  favour  of  a  disagreement  had 
risen  rather  than  abated.  There  were  many  who 
professed  to  have  inside  information  that  the  re- 
sult of  the  last  several  ballots  had  remained  un- 
changed. Of  course  the  boast  of  "inside  infor- 
mation" was  all  nonsense.  Still  I  must  admit 
that,  after  a  tolerably  long  career,  the  source  of 
these  mysterious  guesses,  which  are  frequently  cor- 
rect, has  never  been  cleared  up  to  my  satisfaction. 

It  was  not  until  long  after  the  interest  in  the 
Strickland  trial  had  died  away  and  the  case  itself 
become  part  of  history,  that  I  learned  something 
of  the  conditions  that  obtained  in  the  jury-room. 
If  they  have  any  place  in  this  account,  the  place  is 
here. 

At  the  end  of  seven  ballots,  the  verdict  still 
stood  eleven  for  acquittal  to  one  for  conviction. 
The  "one"  was  the  foreman,  a  certain  Mr.  Trum- 
bull,  a  solid,  hard-headed  business  man,  once  con- 
vinced, almost  impossible  to  move. 

For  more  than  an  hour,  the  other  eleven  had 
devoted  their  energies  without  any  marked  result, 


THE  JURY  DEBATES  301 

to  trying  to  convince  Trumbull  that  he  was  in  the 
wrong.  He  had  been  perfectly  unmoved  by  ap- 
peals to  his  reason,  to  his  common  sense,  and  even 
had  submitted  to  being  called  "Pig-headed"  with 
entire  composure.  Finally,  he  had  declared  him- 
self as  perfectly  willing  to  listen  to  reason  for  the 
seventh  time. 

"Now,  look  here,  Trumbull,"  began  the  gentle- 
man selected  (perhaps  only  by  himself)  to  repre- 
sent Reason,  "what's  the  good  of  sending  Strick- 
land to  the  chair  ?  You  don't  bring  Trask  back 
to  life  by  doing  it,  do  you"?  All  you  do  is  kill 
off  a  good,  clean,  straightforward  chap  who's  a 
valuable  asset  to  the  community.  And  who, 
after  all  is  said  and  done,  suffers  most?  Not 
Strickland !  His  wife  and  his  little  girl — a  most 
remarkable  child! — they're  the  real  sufferers. 
You  throw  a  sensitive  woman  out  on  the  world 
and  give  a  little  baby  a  blot  on  her  name  that 
she'll  never  be  able  to  wipe  out.  What's  your 
idea?  Why  do  you  want  to  convict  him1?" 

(It  is,  of  course,  understood  that  I  do  not  pre- 
tend that  these  were  Reason's  exact  words.  But 


302  ON  TRIAL 

this  was  the  gist  of  the  matter,  as  reported  to  me. 
Naturally  the  same  remark  applies  to  everything 
else  that  was  said.) 

"I  don't  want  to  convict  him.  I  don't  want  to 
be  instrumental  in  sending  any  man  to  his  death. 
I  guess  I've  got  as  much  humanity  in  my  compo- 
sition as  the  rest  of  you,"  retorted  Mr.  Trumbull, 
rather  testily.  "To  hear  you  go  on,  a  person 
would  think  that  I  was  fairly  thirsting  for  Strick- 
land's blood!" 

"Well,  then,  why  are  you  holding  out?  Why 
don't  you  vote  for  acquittal?" 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Foreman  with  dignity, 
"it  seems  to  me  there's  one  thing  you  all  overlook. 
We're  citizens  as  well  as  men.  We've  sworn  to 
do  our  duty  as  jurors,  and  to  render  a  fair  verdict. 
We  mustn't  be  swayed  by  personal  sentiments. 
We  must  govern  ourselves  entirely  by  the  evidence 
and  by  that  alone.  That's  what  we're  here  for — 
to  render  justice." 

"But  rendering  justice  means  something  more 
than  applying  hard  and  fast  rules  of  law,"  went 
on  Reason's  spokesman.  "I'll  grant  you  that  the 
letter  of  the  law  declares  that  if  one  man  kills  an- 


THE  JURY  DEBATES  303 

other,  the  penalty  must  be  death.  But  we've  got 
to  get  beneath  the  letter.  We  must  get  at  the 
spirit.  We're  not  just  machines,  you  know. 
There's  more  to  this  case  than  a  mere  mechanical 
application  of  the  law.  We've  got  to  attack  this 
from  the  human  standpoint.  We  must  try  to  put 
ourselves  in  Strickland's  place.  Just  consider 
that  for  a  moment.  Suppose  that  Mrs.  Strick- 
land had  been  your  wife,  and  Trask  had  been  the 
— the  other  party.  What  would  you  have 
done?" 

"Shooting  was  far  too  good  for  Trask,"  chimed 
in  one  of  the  other  jurors. 

"We  mustn't  forget  the  'unwritten  law,'  "  sug- 
gested another. 

"I  don't  agree  with  you  there,"  interrupted  the 
spokesman  of  the  occasion.  "I  don't  hold  for 
the  'unwritten  law,'  as  it  is  called,  myself.  Ordi- 
narily, I  don't  believe  that  there's  any  justification 
for  taking  a  human  life.  But  this  case  which  we 
are  considering  now,  is  one  in  a  thousand.  This 
man  Trask  deliberately  invaded  his  friend's  home. 
He  wrecked  it.  The  woman  was  helpless  in  his 
hands.  She  had  lived  in  terror  of  him  for  years. 


304  ON  TRIAL 

He  knew  that.  He  played  on  her  helplessness. 
That's  why  I  am  for  acquittal.  And  that's  just 
why  you  should  be  for  acquittal,  too.  Trumbull, 
you  have  a  wife.  Now  just  consider — " 

"Hold  on  a  moment,"  said  another  juror,  inter- 
rupting. "I  think  that  you  are  going  off  at  a 
tangent.  Unless  I'm  entirely  mistaken,  Trumbull 
agrees  with  us  that  Strickland  had  ample  justifi- 
cation for  killing  Trask." 

"Then  why's  he  holding  out*?" 

"What's  keeping  him  back?" 

"Wait  a  minute;  let's  hear  from  Trumbull  him- 
self on  this  point." 

"Mr.  Moore  is  right,"  said  Trumbull  slowly. 
"I  do  think  that  Strickland  had  cause  for  killing 
Trask.  If  I  had  been  placed  in  similar  circum- 
stances— God  help  me! — I  probably  would  have 
done  the  same  thing." 

"And  still  you  vote  for  conviction." 

"I  vote  for  conviction,  gentlemen,  for  the  rea- 
son that  I'm  not  perfectly  satisfied  that  Strickland 
went  to  Trask's  house  to  avenge  his  wife's  honour. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  he  went  there  with  an 
entirely  different  purpose ;  namely,  to  rob  the  safe, 


THE  JURY  DEBATES  305 

and  repossess  himself  of  that  ten  thousand  dollars 
which  he  admitted  had  been  'so  darned  hard  to 
get.'  " 

"You  can't  really  believe  that,  Trumbull. 
One  look  at  Strickland's  face  should  be  enough  to 
convince  you  that  he's  not  a  thief,  a  safe-cracker. 
Of  course,  I  don't  know  him  personally.  But  I've 
known  him  by  reputation  for  a  dozen  or  more 
years.  Ask  any  one  in  the  business  world  what 
his  reputation  has  always  been.  They'll  tell  you 
he's  as  straight  as  a  die." 

"I  grant  you  all  that,  gentlemen.  But  you 
can't  dodge  the  facts.  There's  a  chain  of  circum- 
stances woven  around  Strickland  that,  to  my  mind, 
would  go  far  to  damn  the  Angel  Gabriel.  Just 
consider  the  facts  with  me  for  an  instant.  Strick- 
land was  hard  pressed.  Trask  held  his  note  for 
ten  thousand  dollars.  Apparently  his  only  hope 
of  paying  the  note  was  to  get  an  advance,  or  a 
loan — whatever  you  choose  to  call  it — from  par- 
ties in  Cleveland  with  whom  he  had  about  con- 
cluded a  business  deal.  He  goes  away,  knowing 
that  he  will  be  absent  the  day  the  note  falls  due. 
That  in  itself  goes  to  show  that  he  hadn't  much 


3o6  ON  TRIAL 

chance  of  paying  the  note  if  the  deal  with  the 
Cleveland  parties  fell  through.  He  comes  back 
two  days  late  with  the  cash  in  his  pocket,  ready 
to  take  up  the  note. 

"I  won't  go  as  far  as  to  say  that  he  timed  it  so, 
but  the  fact  remains  that  he  didn't  reach  home 
until  *after  banking  hours.  Why  didn't  he  wait 
until  morning  and  go  and  pay  the  note  at  the 
bank,  which  would  have  been  the  usual  thing  to 
do  in  the  circumstances'?  Add  to  that  the  fact 
that  he  paid  Trask  the  ten  thousand  dollars  in 
cash.  Why  did  he  pay  it  in  cash4?  Did  any  one 
of  you  familiar  with  his  long  business  career  ever 
hear  of  his  having  done  such  a  thing  before  ?  Of 
course  you  didn't.  Nor  did  anybody  else. 
Why*?  Because  he  never  did  such  a  thing  before 
in  his  life.  It  isn't  a  business  man's  way  of  con- 
ducting his  business. 

"The  presumption  is  that  he  knew  that  Trask 
had  a  safe  in  his  house.  There  doesn't  seem  to 
have  been  any  secret  about  it.  And  Strickland 
was  the  only  person  beside  Trask  who  knew  the 
combination  of  that  safe.  And  he  was  unques- 
tionably on  the  spot  when  the  safe  was  opened. 


THE  JURY  DEBATES  307 

Add  it  all  up,  and  it  looks  pretty  bad.  Don't  you 
think  so?' 

"Of  course  it  looks  bad,  but  it's  all  been  ex- 
plained." 

"It  has,  has  it?  Well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  the 
explanation  hasn't  reached  me.  If  that  is  so, 
there  are  two  little  points  I'd  like  to  have  you  ex- 
plain to  me.  First,  how  did  the  burglar  open  the 
safe?" 

"Tampered  with  it,  of  course." 

"No,  he  didn't.  Two  different  police  officers 
testified  that  the  tumblers  were  in  perfect  order. 
No,  gentlemen,  the  safe  was  opened  with  the  com- 
bination. And  the  only  source  from  which  he 
could  have  learned  the  combination  was  Strick- 
land. 

"And  that's  not  all,  gentlemen.  Remember,  I 
said  there  were  two  points  I'd  like  to  have  ex- 
plained. And  they'll  have  to  be  explained  to  my 
satisfaction  before  I  cast  my  vote  for  acquittal." 

"Well,  what's  the  other  one?     Let's  have  it." 

"Strickland  had  that  combination  on  a  card. 
The  card  was  the  only  real  piece  of  incriminating 
evidence  against  him  in  connection  with  the  rob- 


308  ON  TRIAL 

bery.  If  he's  innocent  of  the  burglary,  as  you 
say  he  is,  why  did  he  attempt  to  destroy  that 
card*?" 

"How  do  you  know  he  did?' 

"I  don't  seem  to  remember  anything  about 
that." 

"Glover  said  so." 

"That's  right.     I  remember  that." 

"Moreover,  gentlemen,  here's  the  card."  The 
foreman  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  table,  and 
picked  it  up.  "Look  at  it.  Don't  you  see  that 
it's  torn  almost  in  two?  And  Glover  testified 
that  it  was  Strickland  that  tore  it. 

"There's  only  one  reason  why  Strickland  should 
have  attempted  to  destroy  this  card.  And  that 
was  to  wipe  out  the  evidence  that  would  be  bound 
to  convict  him." 

Here  the  discussion  became  general.  Several 
of  the  jurors  professed  to  be  hazy,  to  say  the  least, 
about  the  matter.  Some  remembered  it  quite  dis- 
tinctly. Others  declared  that  they  had  not  heard 
it  at  all. 

Some  proposed  to  send  for  Glover  and  ask  him 
to  repeat  his  testimony. 


THE  JURY  DEBATES  309 

"We  can't  do  that,"  the  foreman  reminded 
him.  "We'll  have  to  get  permission  to  have  his 
testimony  read  to  us.  If  you  like,  I'll  send  in  a 
note  to  the  judge.  Ring  for  an  attendant,  one 
of  you." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MR.    GLOVER    OBLIGES 

As  it  happened,  I  was  in  the  court  room  chatting 
with  Dr.  Morgan  when  I  heard  the  whirr  of  the 
electric  bell  that  calls  the  attendants.  The  Dis- 
trict Attorney  was  standing  across  the  room  with 
one  of  the  court  stenographers. 

"There's  something  doing,  evidently,"  he 
called. 

"An  agreement,  do  you  think*?"  asked  Dr.  Mor- 
gan pleasantly. 

"Most  likely,"  replied  Mr.  Gray,  with  a  side- 
long look  at  me. 

"How  long  have  they  been  out*?"  asked  Dr. 
Morgan. 

"Almost  five  hours,"  said  I,  smiling.  But  the 
smile  was  for  Mr.  Gray. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think?' 

Mr.  Gray  answered  for  me. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think," — I  will  say  he 
310 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  311 

made  the  confession  handsomely.  "This  is  a 
most  unusual  case." 

And  in  saying  that,  he  was  not  understating  the 
fact. 

An  attendant  came  out  of  the  jury  room  bearing 
a  note,  and  hurried  over  to  the  judge's  room. 

I  went  out  into  the  lobby  in  search  of  McLean. 
Fortunately,  he  was  not  far  off.  "Go  and  bring 
the  ladies,"  I  said  in  a  low  tone.  It  wasn't  at  all 
necessary,  in  my  opinion,  to  inform  all  the 
loungers  that  I  suspected  that  something  was 
about  to  happen.  Let  them  find  it  out  for  them- 
selves, the  same  way  they  found  out  so  much  that 
never  really  took  place ! 

It  was  about  five  minutes  later  that  an  attend- 
ant announced  that  the  judge  was  coming.  Every 
one  who  had  any  official  connection  with  the  case 
hurried  to  his  place.  As  counsel,  I  was  duly  noti- 
fied to  see  that  the  prisoner  was  brought  in. 

"All  right,  gentlemen,"  came  the  voice  of  the 
attendant,  as  the  jurors  filed  in  and  took  their 
places. 

"Justice  of  the  Court,"  announced  the  clerk. 
And  His  Honour  took  his  seat. 


312  ON  TRIAL 

At  that  moment  Strickland,  followed  a  moment 
later  by  his  wife  and  child,  and  his  sister-in-law, 
took  his  place  at  the  table.  I  signed  to  McLean 
and  Miss  Foley  to  find  seats  not  far  away.  I  had 
an  idea  that  the  latter' s  services  might  be  required, 
no  matter  what  the  verdict  might  be.  Still,  there 
was  no  gainsaying  that  Mrs.  Strickland  had  been 
little  short  of  marvellous. 

The  change  in  Strickland,  himself,  was  note- 
worthy. One  would  hardly  have  taken  him  for 
the  same  man.  He  sat  erect  now,  like  a  man  who 
was  prepared  to  face  the  world  whatever  fate 
might  have  in  store  for  him.  His  eyes  were  no 
longer  half  closed.  And  in  them  there  was  a  light 
— not  exactly  of  hope,  not  exactly  of  confidence, 
and  yet  a  blending  of  both — which  changed  the 
character  of  his  face  entirely. 

I  had  the  feeling — and  I  am  glad  that  I  did  him 
justice  in  that — that  this  change  had  little  or 
nothing  to  do  with  his  own  fate,  now  so  soon  to  be 
decided.  Long  afterwards  he  told  me  that  the 
relief  which  his  wife's  story  had  brought  to  his 
mind  was  the  cause  of  any  change  that  I  had  noted 
in  him.  Now  that  he  knew  that  she  was,  and  had 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  313 

always  been  worthy  of  his  devotion,  his  confidence 
and  his  love,  nothing  else  was  of  any  consequence 
by  comparison. 

Not  that  he  did  not  wish  to  live,  to  leave  that 
room  where  he  had  passed  so  many  hours  of  tor- 
ture, a  free  man.  He  wished  it  more  than  ever. 
For  now  he  had  a  new  ambition  and  purpose  in 
life :  to  devote  himself  wholly  and  entirely  to  the 
woman  who  had  considered  her  reputation  before 
the  world  as  nothing  when  weighed  in  the  balance 
against  his  life. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  Court,  addressing  him- 
self to  the  District  Attorney  and  me,  "I  have  re- 
ceived a  note  from  the  jury,  in  which  they  request 
that  a  portion  of  Glover's  testimony  be  read  to 
them. 

"Turn  to  Glover's  testimony,  please,"  he  said 
to  the  stenographer.  "Now,  read  that  portion 
which  pertains  to  the  tearing  of  the  card.  Peo- 
ple's Exhibit  A." 

The  stenographer  proceeded  to  read  in  that 
even,  colourless  voice,  which  seems  to  be  the 
marked  characteristic  of  all  stenographers  in  my 
observation : 


3H  ON  TRIAL 

"Question  by  Mr.  Gray:  'Now,  Mr.  Glover, 
I  call  your  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  card  is 
torn  almost  in  half.  Can  you  explain  how  that 
occurred?'  Answer:  'Yes;  as  I  took  the  card 
from  Strickland's  pocket,  he  snatched  it  out  of  my 
hand,  and  started  to  tear  it  in  half.  Before  he 
had  torn  it  all  the  way,  I  managed  to  get  hold  of 
it  again.'  Question: — " 

"That's  enough,"  said  the  foreman. 

He  turned  to  the  other  jurors,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment they  could  be  seen  whispering  together  in  an 
animated  manner.  Meanwhile,  Dr.  Morgan, 
who  had  not  been  present,  it  may  be  remembered, 
while  Glover  was  giving  his  testimony,  came  over 
to  where  Gray  and  I  were  standing,  his  face  blaz- 
ing with  excitement. 

"Is  that  all,  gentlemen?"  asked  His  Hon- 
our. 

"One  moment,  if  Your  Honour  pleases,"  re- 
plied the  foreman.  After  a  short  conference  with 
his  fellow  jurors,  he  said: 

"Your  Honour,  the  jury  would  like  to  ask  Mr. 
Strickland  a  few  questions." 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  315 

"Do  you  consent  to  the  case  being  re-opened, 
gentlemen?"  questioned  the  Court. 

"Yes,  Your  Honour,"  replied  Gray. 

"Mr.  Arbuckle?" 

"Yes,  Your  Honour." 

A  day  earlier,  I  would  have  been  put  to  it  to 
know  what  to  say.  Considering  that  my  client 
refused  absolutely  to  give  me  the  least  aid  in  pre- 
paring his  defence,  I  would  have  been  prepared 
to  have  him  show  himself  equally  obstinate  when 
it  came  to  the  question  of  his  taking  the  stand. 
But  to-day,  I  had  reason  to  hope — 

"Mr.  Strickland,  are  you  willing  to  take  the 
stand?"  asked  the  Court. 

"Yes,  Your  Honour,"  said  Strickland  in  a  ring- 
ing voice. 

And  my  reasons  are  sound,  I  said  to  myself, 
completing  my  own  thought. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  the  clerk,  after 
he  had  administered  the  oath. 

"Robert  Strickland." 

And  now  the  foreman  took  a  hand. 

"Mr.  Strickland,  several  members  of  the  jury 


316  ON  TRIAL 

have  requested  me  to  ask  you  why  you  attempted 
to  destroy  the  card  with  the  combination  to  Mr. 
Trask's  safe  on  it." 

"You  need  not  answer  that  question  unless  you 
want  to,"  cautioned  Judge  Dinsmore. 

"I  didn't  attempt  to  destroy  it,"  said  Strickland 
simply. 

"You  mean  that  you  didn't  tear  the  card*?" 

"I  did  not." 

"Do  you  know  who  did?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  you  know  the  card  contained  the  combi- 
nation to  the  safe?" 

"Not  until  I  heard  it  the  other  day  in  court.  I 
saw  some  figures  on  the  card,  but  they  had  no  sig- 
nificance to  me.  I  never  thought  of  the  card  from 
the  time  I  looked  at  the  address  on  it  until  I  saw 
it  here  in  court." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  didn't  see  or  feel  Mr. 
Glover  take  it  from  your  pocket?" 

"No,  sir,  I  did  not.  I  was  almost  blind  with 
pain  at  the  time." 

"That's  all." 

Strickland  stepped  down.     And  his  step  had  a 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  317 

life  and  a  lightness  that  it  had  lacked  for  many  a 
long  day. 

"With  Your  Honour's  permission,"  I  said,  "I 
will  recall  Dr.  Morgan." 

I  never  felt  more  serious  in  my  life.  And  one 
of  the  things  that  contributed  to  this  state  of  mind 
was  my  regret  that  McLean  was  not  sitting  where 
I  could  see  his  face. 

"Any  objection,  Mr.  Gray?" 

"No,  Your  Honour." 

"Dr.  Morgan,"  I  asked,  as  slowly  and  impres- 
sively as  I  could,  when  he  had  once  more  taken  the 
stand,  "on  the  night  of  the  shooting,  did  you  ex- 
amine the  defendant?" 

"Yes,  sir.  When  I  found  that  it  was  too  late 
to  do  anything  for  Mr.  Trask,  I  turned  my  atten- 
tion to  Mr.  Strickland." 

"In  what  condition  did  you  find  him?" 

"He  was  lying  on  his  back  on  the  floor  in  a 
semi-conscious  condition,  moaning  with  pain." 

"Did  you  examine  his  arm?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  examined  it  very  carefully  while 
Mr.  Glover,  with  the  police  officers  were  testing 
the  safe." 


3i8  ON  TRIAL 

"Will  you  describe  the  condition  of  the  arm, 
please?" 

"The  arm  had  been  struck  a  terrific  blow  with 
a  heavy  cane.  The  blow  fell  squarely  on  the 
wrist,  dislocating  the  wristjoint.  Both  bones  of 
the  forearm — the  radius  and  the  ulna — were  badly 
fractured.  It  was  the  worst  fracture  I  have  ever 
seen." 

"Now,  Dr.  Morgan,  in  your  opinion,  could  the 
defendant  have  torn  this  card,  as  you  see  it  here, 
between  the  time  his  arm  was  broken  and  the  time 
you  arrived?" 

"He  could  not,  sir.  The  hand  was  entirely 
paralysed.  It  would  have  been  a  physical  impos- 
sibility, assuming  even  that  his  mental  state  would 
have  permitted  of  it.  The  bones  haven't  knitted 
yet.  At  that  time,  he  couldn't  have  moved  the 
arm  or  the  hand  a  fraction  of  an  inch." 

"That's  all,  Dr.  Morgan." 

I  waited  a  minute  until  Dr.  Morgan  had 
stepped  down,  then  I  turned  to  Mr.  Gray. 

"Do  you  know  where  Glover  is,  Mr.  Gray?" 

"The  last  time  I  saw  him,  he  was  in  my  office, 
reading,"  said  Gray. 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  319 

He  seemed  just  a  little  sulky. 

"Try  to  find  Mr.  Glover,  please,"  I  said  to  an 
attendant. 

Not  even  when  Mrs.  Strickland  was  on  the 
stand  had  there  been  a  more  tense  feeling  in  the 
court  room.  The  very  air  was  electric. 

I  rather  plume  myself  upon  not  being  suscepti- 
ble to  such  influences  as  a  rule.  But  I  have  to 
admit  that  I  felt  it  this  time.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed that  there  was  a  certain  excitement  about 
it. 

Supposing  the  obliging  Mr.  Glover — I  say 
"obliging,"  for  I  know  of  no  term  that  seems  to 
me  to  describe  more  fitly  the  air  of  cheerful  will- 
ingness which  he  habitually  wore — had  wearied 
of  his  reading  and  left  my  colleague's  comfort- 
able quarters?  Supposing,  even,  that,  as  would 
have  been  only  natural  to  a  young  man  of  his 
energy  and  intelligence,  he  had  decided  to  look 
for  new  fields  for  the  employment  of  his  talents'? 
I  had  been  given  to  understand  that  his  connection 
with  the  Trask  family  was  at  an  end,  Mrs.  Trask 
having  no  further  use  for  his  services.  There  was 
nothing  as  far  as  I  could  learn  to  bind  young 


320  ON  TRIAL 

Glover  to  New  York.  And  youth  has  ever  loved 
adventure  and  change. 

I  turned  and  walked  back  to  say  a  word  to 
Strickland.  I  was  able,  thus,  to  give  McLean  a 
look.  He  was  not  at  all  downcast.  On  the  con- 
trary, his  face  wore  a  look  that  was  nothing  short 
of  malignant.  I  felt  positively  relieved  to  notice 
that  he  was  glaring  at  the  door.  Young  Mr. 
Glover  might  have  had  a  bad  quarter  of  an  hour, 
if  he  had  met  McLean  alone  in  a  forest,  say ! 

The  very  next  second  Mr.  Glover  appeared, 
escorted  by  the  attendant.  I  was  glad  to  see  him. 
I  had  liked  him  from  the  first  moment  I  had  seen 
him  at  the  inquest. 

"Will  you  be  good  enough  to  take  the  stand, 
Mr.  Glover4?"  I  asked  cheerfully. 

Mr.  Glover  did  so. 

"I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you  again,  but  there's  one 
little  point  upon  which  we're  not  quite  clear, 
and—" 

"I'll  be  glad  to  do  anything  in  my  power,"  in- 
terrupted Mr.  Glover. 

His  manner  was  affability  itself. 

"Thank   you.     You    remember,    Mr.    Glover, 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  321 

that  while  you  were  waiting  for  the  police  to  ar- 
rive you  happened  to  think  of  this  card  which  you 
thought  might  help  the  police4?" 

"Yes,  and  I  was  right,  too." 

"Indeed,  you  were.  Now,  Mr.  Glover,  you 
will  recall  that  you  proceeded  to  search  Mr. 
Strickland's  pockets  in  the  hope  of  finding  this 
card." 

"Yes;  and  I  found  it." 

There  was  a  new  note  in  Mr.  Glover's  voice 
that  had  not  been  there  before.  Not  exactly  as- 
sertiveness,  not  exactly  aggressiveness;  I  should 
say  that  it  was  just  a  shade  nearer  defiance.  But 
he  was  still  going  to  be  obliging.  I  felt  convinced 
that  when  he  left  the  stand  I  should  be  in  his  debt. 

"Precisely.  It  was  in  his  coat  pocket  you 
found  it,  I  believe." 

"Yes." 

"Which  pocket4?" 

"Side  pocket." 

"Now,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'd  just  like  to  have 
you  describe  that  scene  once  more  in  detail. 
Where  was  Mr.  Strickland?" 

"He  was  on  the  floor,  lying  on  his  back," 


322  ON  TRIAL 

"And  you  were  standing  over  him?" 

"Yes." 

"On  which  side  of  him'?" 

"The  right  side." 

"And  as  you  bent  over  him  and  went  through 
his  pockets,  did  he  make  any  attempt  to  prevent 
you?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  tried  to  push  me  away." 

"That  is,  he  kept  warding  you  off  like  this?" — 
I  made  a  motion  with  my  right  arm — "That 
right?" 

"Yes." 

"Finally,  however,  you  succeeded  in  getting  the 
card?" 

"Yes." 

"Let's  see.  That  was  in  the  left  side  pocket  of 
the  coat,  wasn't  it?" 

"Left  side?     Let  me  see.     Yes." 

"When  you  got  the  card,  you  straightened  up, 
didn't  you,  with  the  card  in  your  right  hand?" 

"That's  correct." 

"But  before  you  had  the  chance  to  get  the  card 
out  of  his  reach,  he  raised  himself  on  his  right 
elbow,  and  with  his  left  hand  snatched  the  card 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  323 

out  of  your  hand.  That's  all  right  so  far,  isn't 
it?" 

"Yes." 

"If  I'm  wrong  in  any  of  these  details,  just  put 
me  straight.  My  memory  fails  me  sometimes." 

"All  right;  I'll  let  you  know  when  you  make  a 
mistake." 

"Good!  Now  there  was  something  else.  I 
must  ask  you  to  be  just  a  little  patient  with 
me." 

"Certainly." 

His  manner  was  growing  more  and  more  affa- 
ble. 

"Oh,  yes!  Strickland  snatched  the  card. 
Then  he  tore  it.  Now,  how  did  he  tear  it?" 

"How?    What  do  ypu  mean?" 

"Well,  I  mean,  did  he  tear  it  quickly,  or  slowly, 
or—" 

"Well,  rather  quickly.  Because  I  snatched  it 
back  almost  instantly." 

"Just  a  moment  now;  I  want  to  get  this 
straight.  Strickland  had  the  card  in  his  left 
hand— like  this.  Right?" 

"Yes." 


324  ON  TRIAL 

"And  he  was  supporting  himself  on  his  other 
elbow— like  this.  Yes?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  he  made  a  quick  backward  movement- 
like  this — tearing  the  card  almost  in  half.  Is  that 
it?" 

"That's  right." 

"I  see.  And  then  you  took  the  card  away  from 
him?" 

"Yes." 

"And  he  threatened  you,  didn't  he,  as  you  took 
the  card?" 

"Yes.     He  swore  at  me  and  said  he'd  fix  me." 

"And  if  I  remember  correctly,  you  said  that  he 
made  a  quick  pass  for  his  revolver — like  this?" 

"Yes;  but  it  was  out  of  his  reach." 

"That  explains  it  all  beautifully.  You've 
cleared  up  things  for  us,  Mr.  Glover.  We're 
greatly  indebted  to  you." 

"Not  at  all.     Is  there  anything  else?" 

"No,  I  think  that's  all.     Oh,  just  a  moment." 

"Certainly." 

"Mr.  Stenographer,  will  you  read  the  latter 
part  of  Dr.  Morgan's  testimony,  please?" 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  325 

He  had  started  to  leave  the  stand,  when  I  had 
asked  for  just  one  more  moment.  As  I  made  my 
request  to  the  stenographer,  I  noticed  that  his  ex- 
pression altered  slightly.  He  looked  just  a  little 
uneasy.  I  moved  up  closer  to  his  side  while  we 
both  listened  to  hear  what  Dr.  Morgan  had  had 
to  say. 

"Question,  by  Mr.  Arbuckle :  'Now,  Dr.  Mor- 
gan, in  your  opinion,  could  the  defendant  have 
torn  this  card,  as  you  see  it  here,  between  the  time 
his  arm  was  broken  and  the  time  you  arrived  ¥ 
Answer:  'He  could  not.'  Question:  'You  are 
sure  of  this?'  Answer:  'Yes;  the  hand  was  en- 
tirely paralysed.  It  would  have  been  a  physical 
impossibility,  assuming  even  that  his  mental  state 
would  have  permitted  it.  The  bones  haven't  knit 
yet.  At  that  time  he  couldn't  have  moved  his 
arm  or  hand  the  fraction  of  an  inch.'  " 

"Glover!  What  did  you  do  with  that  ten 
thousand  dollars?" 

"What  are  you  talking  about?  What  do  you 
mean?  What  ten  thousand  dollars?" 

He  was  absolutely  panic-stricken. 

"Your  Honour,  I  ask  for  a  warrant  for  the  ar- 


326  ON  TRIAL 

rest  of  this  man  as  an  accomplice  to  the  murder  of 
Gerald  Traskr 

"No,  no,  Your  Honour,  it  isn't  true!"  he 
screamed.  "I  didn't  kill  him !  I  didn't !  I  took 
the  money,  but  I  didn't  kill  him!  Here's  the 
money !"  He  snatched  it  from  the  inside  pocket 
of  his  coat  and  actually  held  it  out  towards  His 
Honour.  They  looked  to  be  the  same  crisp,  new 
bills  that  Strickland  had  handed  over  to  Trask. 
No  doubt  they  were.  "Take  it,  take  it!  I  don't 
want  it!  I'll  plead  guilty — I'll  go  to  jail!  But 
don't  arrest  me  for  the  murder ! 

"I'll  tell  how  it  happened,  I'll  tell  everything. 
I  didn't  know  Strickland  was  coming.  I  planned 
the  robbery  that  night.  When  Trask  gave  me  the 
money,  I  put  it  in  the  safe,  but  I  didn't  lock  the 
safe.  I  left  it  open.  He  didn't  notice  it.  Then 
I  came  back  for  the  money.  I  didn't  know  about 
Strickland.  It's  God's  truth! 

"Mrs.  Trask  heard  me  come  in.  She  came  back 
into  the  room  and  I  choked  her.  But  she's  all 
right.  She's  not  hurt.  That's  not  murder!  I 
got  the  money,  then  I  saw  Strickland  come  in.  I 
didn't  know  he  was  coming.  I  didn't.  I  swear 


MR.  GLOVER  OBLIGES  327 

I  didn't!  Pin  innocent!  Pm  innocent,  I  tell 
you!  I  left  the  room. 

"Then  I  heard  the  shot,  and  came  back.  It  was 
the  first  I  knew  of  it.  I'm  innocent,  I  tell  you! 
Send  me  to  jail.  Give  me  twenty  years — I  don't 
care.  But  don't  try  me  for  murder !  I  tore  the 
card  so  they'd  think  that  Strickland  had  planned 
the  burglary.  We  weren't  working  together. 
Ask  him.  He'll  tell  you  we  weren't.  I  didn't 
know  he  was  coming.  Ask  him.  He'll  tell  you." 

He  suddenly  darted  from  the  stand  and  rushed 
across  to  the  table  where  Strickland  was  sitting. 

"Strickland!"  he  shrieked,  hammering  the  table 
with  his  clenched  fist,  "tell  them,  tell  them  we 
weren't  working  together!" 

Strickland's  curling  lip  was  the  most  eloquent 
of  answers. 

"Remove  the  man,"  ordered  Judge  Dinsmore. 

"I  didn't  kill  him!  Don't  railroad  me!  I'm 
innocent,  I  tell  you!  Don't,  don't!" 

Two  officers  seized  him  and  dragged  him  out  of 
the  room.  His  frenzied  screams  could  be  heard 
from  far  down  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    VERDICT 

"You  may  resume  your  deliberations,  gentle- 
men," said  the  Court. 

"We  have  agreed  already,  Your  Honour." 

It  was  the  foreman  of  the  jury  who  spoke. 

"Robert  Strickland!"  commanded  the  clerk. 

Strickland  rose,  and  stood  erect  in  his  place. 
His  eyes  were  untroubled.  But  the  lines  about 
his  firm  mouth  deepened.  Mrs.  Strickland  held 
out  her  arms,  and  gathered  Doris  into  them. 

"Prisoner,  look  upon  the  jury;  jury,  look  upon 
the  prisoner. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  have  you  agreed  upon 
a  verdict?" 

"We  have,"  said  the  foreman. 

"And  how  do  you  find,  gentlemen?" 

"We  find  the  defendant  not  guilty." 

I  heard  a  wailing  cry  of  "Robert !" 

The  next  moment  Strickland  had  his  wife  in 
his  arms. 

THE    END 

328 


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